The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun
by DiscordantSymphony
Summary: Joffery and Tommen Baratheon are dead, tragically slain at the older brother's wedding. There is only one Baratheon child left, Myrcella of the House Baratheon, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm. Long May she reign.
1. Prologue

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Prologue

Tyrion seethed in his rage as he felt the wine that he had been doused in by his little cunt of a nephew soaking him as said nephew stumbled over to his queen, the Tyrell girl a more lovely prize than Joffery deserved with her long brown curls falling around her pale heart shaped face with her big doe eyes and dressed in a gown of lace and Samite, white and pale green woven together in a dance.

He glanced back at his own Lady wife, no less beautiful than the Tyrell girl with her deep red hair and dark blue eyes and pale skin, even her grief over her family only seemed to make her that much more beautiful. So much more distant than she had been before, a deep sadness that would make any man want to comfort her, to bring a smile to those lips.

But Tyrion had never brought a smile to her lips and he imagined that he never would, he was hardly the sort of husband that any sane woman would want and Sansa had believed that she was to be a queen, wed to a king who would love her and never harm her and Joffery had broken that illusion for her and he had done it without a single moment's hesitation.

Of course, according to his father it did not matter how many smiles he managed to give to Lady Sansa or to make her smile at all. Tywin Lannister wanted Winterfell and the North and Tyrion couldn't deny, a part of him wanted it as well. Tyrion Lannister, Lord Protector of the North. It was a title that he could grow used to but he didn't want to force anything on to Sansa, certainly not himself.

And as he thought of that, he thought of Shae. He wondered briefly what she was doing now, outside in the courtyard trying to fight of a man-at-arms who was groping her while trying to finish off whatever course they were still on outside. Something would need to be done about Shae, he loved her. Fool as he was to do so but he knew that he couldn't take her with them North, it wouldn't be fair to Sansa.

And there were whores in the North, he had been fond of one in particular when he had stayed at Winterfell. A red-haired woman whose name slipped his tongue, Rana? Rose? Something like that at least.

He was brought out of his thoughts by cries of delight and Tyrion looked down the table to see that Joffery had used his sword to cut open the pie and a dozen white pigeons took to the air. Margaery Tyrell clapped her arms in delight and her eyes shone, he wondered how long it would take Joff to stamp that light out. Her mother and father were sitting further down, both of them beaming with pride.

His father didn't smile but the threat was there and it was terrifying as his hand curled around a silver goblet, his sweet sister was as beautiful as ever with a silver hair net dotted with rubies contained her golden curls and a necklace of lion medallions around her neck. Little Tommen was sitting next to his mother and Tyrion knew that he was kicking his feet back and forth underneath the table. Almost completely unaware of the tension that had been bubbling underneath the room just a few moments ago.

Plates of pie were soon placed in front of them, a spoon of lemon cream dotting the side and the pigeon well and truly cooked. It looked delicious but Tyrion found that rage had robbed away anything that resembled an appetite. A poke on his shoulder made him look up at his wife, her pale face only made paler by the hairnet of dark amethysts that bound her copper curls. "Can we go now?"

She sounded as exhausted as Tyrion felt and he couldn't blame her, the game was exhausting as so he let out a sigh. "Let's find out." He said as he stood and took his lady wife's hand and began to walk her away from the table. They had almost reached the end of the Dais when they were spotted.

"Uncle, where do you think that you're going?"

The voice was irritating and Tyrion forced a smile on to his face and into his voice before he turned to face his nephew, a plate of pie blanching precariously in his hands and when Tyrion saw that and his red face he realised that his grace was well and truly drunk. "My lady wife is tired your grace and I require a change of clothes, if we may have your leave?"

"No, you're to be my cupbearer, remember? Come here." Joffery said as he pointed in front of him like Tyrion was one of the dogs that was wandering around the hall, scraping up scraps of food. Tyrion breathed deep and let go of his wife's hand and he walked forward, ignoring all the eyes that were locked on to him at that moment. He was a Lannister and he had his pride as well.

Joffery gestured to his oversized wedding goblet that had been gifted to him by Mace Tyrell and Tyrion sized up a flagon of plum wine and filled it up and Joffery sized it, spilling most of it on the floor and staining his doublet but some at least went into his mouth. "Better, the pie is good but it's so very, very dry indeed." Joffery said before he took another forkful of pie and shoved it into his mouth, chewing noisily.

Then Joffery began to cough, a small cough at the first Joffery took another swig from his goblet to clear his throat but it didn't work at all and he kept coughing, if anything it only seemed to grow worse. "Are you well, your grace?" Tyrion asked as cold daggers began to rake at his stomach. he suddenly felt the need to run as Joffery's bride came forward and rubbed at his back.

"It's..pie." For a moment a look of dumb confusion appeared on Joffery's face and a silence fell on the hall. It was broken when a thin weedy sound broke from the royal mouth and Tyrion realised with a start that it was from his nephew trying to take a breath. That was the last sound that Tyrion ever heard him make as the King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men dropped to his knees and began to claw at his throat to try and breath, his face slow turning purple.

And then all seven hells broke loose.

A group of knights surrounded the king, he noticed Boros Blount trying to pour water down Joffery's mouth while Garlan Tyrell pounded him hard on the back while Meryn Trant shoved a fork down the throat to try and remove the blockage. Many of the noble lords and ladies were climbing over one another to try and get away from the scene as fast as they could.

Tyrion heard but didn't turn to look as Margaery Tyrell broke down crying and her mother and grandmother tried to comfort her. The Queen of Thorns hissing at her to be brave as a loud shriek filled the air. Tyrion turned to look as his sister ran from her seat, tears rolling down her cheeks as she pushed all the knights away and scooped Joffery into her lap as he lay in spasm on the floor, she let out a wail. "No, no! Father, Father help him! Somebody help him, my son! Please, Joffery please."

Pycelle was trying to make himself heard, shouting about potions and purging and things that would already be too late as Tommen sobbed loudly and spluttered and coughed.

Coughed.

Tyrion spun and looked at his younger nephew and realised that he had been eating the pie, his face was turning blue and his coughs were growing rougher. He actually was chocking, he had been eating his pie as well and in all the excitement it had gotten stuck. Tyrion took a step forward, not sure what he could do when Cersei saw what he saw.

"Tommen? Tommen! No, no! I can-t, please gods I can't!" Cersei shrieked and roared her rage and grief and Tyrion stood frozen in his shock as both of his nephews died together, despite his father trying to clear his throat by whacking Tommen on the back.

When Cersei screamed, he knew it was over.

Tommen almost looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. Golden curls surrounding his head and his eyes shut as his little head rested on the table's golden covering. Joffery didn't look like he was sleeping and he certainly did not look peaceful, his eyes blood red and his face turned as black as a Dornish plum.

Cersei's face was frozen in her grief, her mouth held open as her hands clutched Joffery close to her while her eyes were locked on to Tommen. Her head was held back and her mouth was hanging open. Almost as if she was in the middle of a scream though she was silent, her eyes screwed shut. He had never before, but in that moment Tyrion felt sorry for his sister.

He didn't know what possessed him but he stepped forward, she wouldn't want his comfort and there was none he could give and yet moved forward he did as a dog walked forward and sniffed at Joffery's fingers. Before he could say anything, Cersei let go of her son and laid him on the ground before she lunged at Tyrion and pulled him close to her.

For a moment he thought that his sister was hugging him, so lost in her grief that she would cling to any anchor in the storm but when he felt pain bloom in his side he realised what she had done with a start. _"She stabbed me."_

Cersei pulled back, a dirk red with blood in her hands and hate in her eyes. He had seen distaste in his sister's eyes, disgust and distrust and anger but never hate before. She lunged again at the dirk went into his shoulder and the pain knocked Tyrion down to the floor as Cersei pulled it back and stabbed him again and again and again.

Cersei was leaning over him and stabbing him over the screams he heard, their father commanding her to stop and Uncle Kevan trying to pull her away and over Cersei's screams of calling him a monster and a demon and a Valonqar. Tyrion realised that he didn't hear his wife screaming, he hadn't seen her or heard her at all.

As he slipped into the darkness, Tyrion realised that it had taken his sister the three tries to kill him. If he was capable of thinking of anything in that moment, he might have found it funny.

End of Prologue.

* * *

 **Okay, damn. This got intense.**

 **Okay, so this is an idea that has been floating around in my head for awhile. What if Myrcella ascended the throne, not due to any effort of the Queenmaker plot but because her brothers were dead. Killing Tommen was not fun but alas, it had to be done and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **As for killing Tyrion, well, it is a prologue chapter.**

 **Now, a note on Canon. I'm using a mix of show and book canon so, for example, Trystane and Myrcella are both around the age they are in the show but neither of them are played by their show actors as neither of them are how I imagined them to be but if you see them that way then fair enough and more power to you.**

 **Another example, Arianne does exist and the Sand Snakes are closer to their book counterparts.**

 **With love,**

 **Doctorwhofan12345.**


	2. Chapter 1

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter One.

"You keep setting you're elephants up in the same place." His betrothed spoke softly as she moved her dragon forward and set it with the task of devouring his elephants, Trystane frowned slightly as he watched his pieces being swept away so easily. He thought that he might have been able to trick her this time but she had seen through the trap, destroying his crossbow men and his ballista's before he had a chance to use them to take down his betrothed's dragon and now his elephants were nothing more than meat for her beast.

He watched as Myrcella moved her spearmen forward slightly and Trystane looked down at the pieces he had left. His king was still in play but he doubted that it would be there very much longer, Myrcella wasn't one to leave such an opening untaken advantage off. He had no options left to him and he thought that it would be better to die than to be killed and so he reached out with a long finger and knocked his king over with a simple push.

He thought that might bring a smile to her face but she only stared down at the fallen king with a sad expression on her lovely pale face. The news had come to Dorne on black wings and the words that had been clutched in it's claws had threatened to shake Sunspear down to it's foundations. King Joffery had died at his wedding, poisoned by his uncle and the Prince Tommen as well. His betrothed had locked herself away in her room for nearly an entire week before she had shown her face to anyone.

When she had finally come out of her room, her face had been pale and her eyes were red but Trystane had never seen her cry. His father had left her to her grief for the most part but he had made sure that she had always been eating while she had confined herself up in her room, sending her plates of roast goat roasted in lemon and with Dothraki firepods and seven snake stew.

She had spoken to him of her brothers on the day she had left her room, the light of the sun had made her golden hair glow against her pale skin, Trystane didn't think that he had ever seen someone so beautiful. Most of what she had spoken about had been about her younger brother Tommen, there were a few years between them but Myrcella had always taken care of him when their mother had focused on Joffery.

Speaking of the King, his betrothed hadn't spoken much of him at all. She seemed to be less upset at his passing though for why Trystane couldn't fathom. If either Arianne or Quentyn died than he knew that he would be heartbroken for the both of them equally, even though his big brother had spent most of his time now as a ward of the Yronwoods.

"Well, I was hoping that this time you would think that it was too obvious and that it was clearly a trap and would make you hesitate." Trystane reached out and cupped her face, smiling when he saw the red blush cover her face. "But my sweet love, you forgot one very simple thing. I really am as stupid as I seem to be and would be the sort who would forget that."

"You're not stupid, don't act like you are." The words held a sharpness that he had not been expecting and it must have shown on his face because Myrcella let out a sigh and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I know you're just trying to cheer me up. But I don't want to be cheered up, I want to be sad. I want to be angry."

Trystane nodded as he reached out and took hold of her hand. "Alright my love, I understand. But you know that if you ever need to talk to me, about any of it, then I am here for you?"

"I know that." Myrcella answered quietly as she stared down at their hands, their interlocked fingers before she glanced up to met his eyes with her own. The green glinted like emeralds and a shy smile spread across her face. "I am very thankful for it, and for you, my prince." She began to lean forward, tilting her head to the side and Trystane leaned in eagerly, their lips coming together.

They stayed connected like that for a time, enjoying one another's closeness. Trystane brought up his hand to run through her golden curls, relishing in the softness. The sound of the cabin door opening drove them apart and Trystane turned to see his older sister come striding into the cabin, Arianne's dark curls framed her face and her dark eyes held a natural curiosity which at the moment was being empathised by a raised eyebrow. "Am I interrupting?"

"We were just playing." He wondered if it was natural for an eyebrow to be able to raise as high as her sister's was at the moment, a blush covered his face and he nearly chocked on his tongue as he struggled to get his words out. "We were playing Cyvasse! Not, what ever it is you happen to be thinking, you're a wicked creature of a sister to be smirking at me, stop it Ari!"

He wasn't sure what was most embarrassing, his sister's smirk that seemed to keep growing no matter his complains or his betrothed's desperate attempts to mask her giggles. Myrcella had many talents but it didn't seem as though this was one, Trystane sighed before he turned his full attention back on to his sister. "Are we almost there?"

"We're about to come into the harbour, you should both come on to the deck. If it please you, your grace." It was still odd to have to remember to call Myrcella by her title now, she was the Queen of all Seven Kingdoms now when once she had been the last in line. Trystane had heard of how backward the people were north of the mountains but it was so foolish and never made any sense to him, what if a lord and lady only had trueborn daughters? Would some fool truly let his lands and holdings go to someone not of his body just because he wasn't given a son? It sounded so strange to him.

His older sister was always going to inherit ahead of him, he had always known that would be the case and he had never resented it, what would be the point of that? Not being the heir gave him more freedom than Arianne, or even Quentyn, ever had. But then, he had never truly been in the running and it didn't matter now. He was going to be the Prince Consort of all Seven Kingdoms, in his own way he would rise higher than his sister ever would.

Myrcella nodded and stood from the table and Trystane followed her out of the cabin up on to the deck, the air was cool even as the sun shined down on them and their ship passed through the crystal blue water of the harbour, passing fat bellied cogs and mighty warships. King Robert's Hammer had been the biggest warship that he had ever seen in his life, it had been part of his betrothed's escort to Dorne and the sight of it of the coast of Sunspear had been incredible.

Try as he might he couldn't see the flagship of the royal navy in the harbour now, he imagined that it was likely that the ship had been sent off on a mission but something about it's absence made a nervous quiver appear in his belly though he did his best not to let it show. Now more than ever, Myrcella needed him to be strong as they approached closer and closed to her fate.

Figures stood waiting for them on the dock though from this far it was hard to tell who they were but they were clearly nobles, the sun did not make any lowborn men glitter like gold. As the boat pulled in closer and closer the figures began to come into a sharp focus, Trystane had never meet the man before but he had heard him being described a dozen times by his father and his uncle that he knew Tywin Lannister when he saw him.

He was dressed in a crimson doublet that was slashed with black, a thick golden chain went around his neck. He was tall and firm and age had not made a dent in what had clearly been an extremely handsome man in his youth. The same could not be said for the man next to him who had the same golden hair streaked with grey and green eyes but had grown round and soft while the older man had stayed hard and firm, Trystane could only imagine that he was Ser Kevan of House Lannister.

Standing next to his father and uncle, a man with short golden hair and the same green eyes and dressed in pure white plate armour could only be the Kingslayer. He heard Myrcella let out a gasp and he could only assume that was due to the fact that at the end of Ser Jaime's wrist was nothing but empty space instead of a hand.

The boat eventually docked and Myrcella, as bold and as brave as ever, lead the way down the gangplank with her skirts clenched in her hands. She met Lord Tywin's eyes and did not bow or bend or break. "Grandfather, you're looking well." Her voice was polite, her courtesy perfectly polished but there was no warmth that most would associate with the title.

Lord Tywin did not seem disappointed or hurt, not at all in a matter of fact. His eyes were cold and searching and relentless as they bored into his granddaughter but Myrcella did not back down and maybe it was just the light but for a moment Trystane thought he saw something that might have been respect in his eyes. "Your grace, you are looking well. Welcome back to the capital."

"Thank you, might I introduce you to my betrothed. Prince Trystane of the House Martell and his sister, the Princess Arianne of the House Martell and heir to Sunspear and the future Princess of Dorne." Lord Tywin gazed at him and Trystane couldn't help the shiver that crept up his spine, he had heard of how terrifying the man could be but hearing about it and seeing it was an entirely different matter.

His gaze bore into him for a few moments more and Trystane felt like he was about to squirm uncomfortably and he didn't think he would be able to bear the humiliation. Just as he was about to lose control however that unbearable and relentless gaze shifted from him and on to Arianne. His sister was older and braver and bore the stare with what he imagined anyone would see as more dignity than he did. "Princess Arianne, I trust that your Father is well?"

Arianne nodded before she spoke. "He is my Lord, his gout does still trouble him some but otherwise he is in the peak of health. Though the absence of his brother, and the lack of messages from him has caused him some upset. I wonder if my brother and I might be able to see him?"

"Prince Oberyn has lacked for nothing my Lady, but I would remind you that the king and the heir to the throne were both murdered at the same wedding. Such a think calls for no lack of caution." Lord Tywin's voice was as sharp, and as cold, as steel. "But of course, you must see him. Kevan, I trust you will be able to escort the Princess and the Prince to their uncle when we arrive at the Red Keep while we take Her Grace to the Small Council to discuss matters important to the realm."

"It would be my honour, Princess Arianne, Prince Trystane, if you would both so kind as to follow me? I have mine own litter waiting for us." Ser Kevan asked as he stepped forward and Trystane was about to move to follow him when he heard Myrcella speak, her voice as sweet as ever but a hint of iron underneath.

"Grandfather, forgive me but before anything I must see my Mother. I would say I want to make sure that she's alright but I know she won't be, regardless I do need to see her Grandfather before anything else. The realm will still be here in a matter of hours." Lord Tywin looked annoyed, clearly not used to being so directly challenged and Trystane saw not hint of respect in his eyes now but Ser Jaime came forward and said something that Trystane could not here and eventually Lord Tywin nodded.

They were lead off then in different directions, Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime taking Myrcella to her own litter and Trystane and Arianne were lead to another by Ser Kevan, the wretched servants would have to follow them on foot. The journey through the streets of King's Landing and up Aegon's High Hill seemed to take an age and a half but eventually they arrived.

Once they stepped out Trystane caught sight of Myrcella's litter but it already looked like she had gone into Maegor's by the time that they had arrived and they had only just stepped out before Ser Kevan was hording them over to the Maidenvault. The Red Keep was still terribly crowded, especially when compared to Sunspear, but as they began to climb the people thinned out.

Two guards in red cloaks and lion helms and armed with pikes were standing outside the door, both nodded respectfully to Ser Kevan as he walked past and opened the door without announcing himself, which struck Trystane as rude as he and his sister followed him inside. Ellaria was waiting for them, dressed in an orange silk dress which left her shoulders bare. She let out a gasp when she saw them, her dark eyes widening.

Trystane almost missed his uncle, he was sitting at the table and running a clothe over one of his knives. His fingers danced nimbly and the blade itself seemed to shine. Ser Kevan glanced at the blade for a moment before he cleared his throat to speak. "The Princess Arianne and the Prince Trystane have arrived, as well as the Queen. A small council meeting will be held soon, shall you be attending it Prince Oberyn?"

"I believe I shall." His uncle answered he lifted his head, his dark eyes blazing with a rage that Trystane had very rarely seen in his life and often wished that he never had. Ser Kevan nodded once again before he turned and left the room, the door wasn't even completely closed behind him before the knife left Oberyn's hand and left itself quivering and embedded into the wood of the door.

Ellaria let out a heavy sigh before she walked over to the door and pulled the knife out of the wood with a grunt, handing it back to his uncle like he was a baby who had just dropped his favourite toy. "You must not allow yourself to let your anger get the better of you, my love. If you do, then we are all lost."

Oberyn grumbled but took the knife back gently, going back to cleaning it. Arianne sighed as she looked between the two of them and rubbed at her eyes. "I imagine this means that things have not been going well since the death of the King and Prince Tommen."

"He's no fool, is Lord Tywin. Oh, he'll cling to power by bathing himself in the blood of women and babes but he is no fool at all. Once both of his nephews were dead, he took certain steps to make sure that we were all secure. He was well aware of the advantage Dorne would have by having the Queen in their hold. Suddenly we were all confined to our rooms and cut off from one another, I tried to send Daemon out but I haven't heard from him since. He could be dead for all I know."

Arianne looked outraged as she glanced rapidly between, she began to pace restlessly. "And they've just kept you in here? Leaving you as nothing more than hostages when you were promised a seat on the small council."

"Oh, my sweet niece. I am allowed to attend council meetings, under guard and nothing I say is listened too." Oberyn gripped the hilt of his knife tightly and slammed into the wood, the thud was loud and he began to drag the blade downward, leaving long wooden quarries into the table. "I am a hostage my dear, meant to ensure good behaviour."

"It won't stand, Trys is going to be the Prince Consort of all seven kingdoms?"

"Is he?"

"Of course I am." Trystane answered, not understanding what his uncle meant. He loved Myrcella more than anything in this world, it had taken a long time for such love to grow between them but he was certain that it had done. Why wouldn't they be married now?

The look of pity his uncle gave him was so strong that for just a moment, Trystane wanted nothing more in the world than to rip his eyes out. "Mace Tyrell wanted his daughter to be a queen, that has been denied to him. But he can still have a grandchild who is a king instead, he has three sons. The eldest and the youngest are unwed, Loras Tyrell has joined the Kingsguard...well, I suppose the Queensguard now. So he can not wed, but Willas..."

"Willas is unwed and the heir of Highgarden, Lord Tywin might actually be more interested in a match between him and his granddaughter than his grandsons and the Little rose, who has been discreetly spirited off to her father's castle with her mother and her grandmother. Regardless, he needs House Tyrell's alliance more than he needs Dorne, I am sad to say."

"Myrcella is sixteen, a woman grown. She's the Queen, she doesn't need a regent. She can do as she likes and wed who she likes." Trystane was desperate, he felt as though he was drowning. His future had been shining bright and now it was all fading away. He felt a hand being placed his shoulder, he couldn't tell if it was Ellaria or Arianne as his attention was completely on his uncle.

"Myrcella is a smart woman, she might love you very much. I don't doubt it, and it's true that her Grandfather can not make her do anything. But if she loses both House Tyrell and her grandfather's support, than her chances of holding on to the throne become quite slim." The worst thing in the world was that there was no cruelty in his uncle's words, just plain truth.

Trystane sat down and stared out of the window, watching as the golden sun began to set and trying to imagine where yesterday had managed to go.

End of Chapter One.

* * *

 **I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I have to admit it's quite new for me to be writing something this late as most of my ASOIAF/GOT fics take place during the first book/season for the moment or before the main events begin. It's quite exciting to be writing around this era of events.**

 **Please leave a review, a follow and a favourite if you enjoyed this chapter. With much love and thanks,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	3. Chapter 2

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Two.

Myrcella tried to keep her head held high as she was marched through the halls of Maegor's Holdfast. Her grandfather in front of her, her uncle behind her and a dozen Lannister Guardsmen following after them. Their pikes pointed up, the spear heads almost scratching the roof as they made their way to her mother's chamber, she tried to ignore the feeling of dread in her gut but she couldn't seem to manage it.

It was odd, feeling dread in this place. Since she had been a little girl she had been running through these halls, more oft than not to go and see Mother. They would oft sit and sew together before Tommen had been born, her favourite time when she had been a little girl had been those times when it had just been the two of them and they would eat the cake that was brought to them.

And once Tommen had been born, those times had fallen to the wayside as Mother was busy with her baby brother and Joffery was reaching the age where he was expected to start to learn how to become the king and thus Mother had become too busy with her brothers to spend much time with her and Father had never shown much of an interest in her and thus she was often left to her own devices.

She had honestly not much minded, at least not all of the time, she had grown used to being alone. She would speak to Jon Arryn when she could and he would let her read his messages to him, she had been heartbroken when the man had died. It had been so sudden, he had been an old man for as long as she could remember him being but he had been strong, she remember him and father once joking together about how they could ride out to war once again on the Tourney on Joff's nameday.

A moon later, that sweet dear old man was dead. It had sadden her, though she had shed few tears for him. She was a lioness, that was what Mother had always said to her, that they were lionesses and they did not cry and if they did then they did not waste their tears on someone who was undeserving of them.

Myrcella had always thought that old Lord Arryn had been deserving of her tears, but she knew better than to argue with her mother and so she had dried her tears and made sure that Tommen was alright. She had always been bolder than her little brother, she always had been braver than him. One of her earliest memories had been Tommen crawling into her bed when a large storm, the likes of which she had never seen before, had come to the city.

She could almost feel how much he had shaken, even now, what seemed like an entirely different lifetime. He had been so afraid, tears had been rolling down his cheeks which she had seen whenever a flash of lightening had illuminated her room. He had clung to her through the night and Myrcella had hummed to him as many lullabies as she had been able to remember from the septa and had hugged him tight until he had fallen asleep.

The thought of her baby brother caused her eyes to burn but she would not allow any tears to fall, she couldn't let any of them see, could let any of them see a hint of any weakness. Most certainly not when her Grandfather was watching her, if she gave off even the slightest hint of weakness than she would lose everything and be nothing but a puppet to him. She wouldn't let that happen, she couldn't.

And so, Myrcella kept her head up as they continued to march through the holdfast. Soon enough they came to the door that she knew had been waiting for her, it was a simple enough door. Made of oak and barred with iron and her mother awaited her inside. She stared at it for just a moment before she cleared her throat and when she spoke, her voice did not shake. "I would speak to my Mother alone, I shall meet with my lords in the Small Council chamber once I am done."

For a moment she thought that it was going to be Uncle Jaime who spoke, who contradicted her commands but it was her Grandfather who spoke instead. "As you say your grace, we shall be awaiting your arrival. However, I must point out that Lord Tyrell, who would have been your relative by law, is waiting most anxiously to speak with you."

Myrcella was certain enough of that, she said nothing to that score however and merely stepped towards the door once all the goodbyes were said. Once she was done Ser Jaime would escort her to the Small Council chamber. Myrcella shut the door behind her once she was inside and moved further into the chambers, more terrified of speaking to her mother than anything else she had ever feared.

And yet, when she finally caught sight of her mother, sitting in her chair, there was no fear, no dread, no frustration. There was only pity in her heart for her in that moment, she had always thought that her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world and the fine clothes and emeralds and rubies that she wore made her that much more.

But now her sorrow had seemed to take it all out of her, she was dressed in a plain black velvet dress with no decoration and no jewels. Her golden curls hung limply around her face, not tied into a braid or bound up in a hair net. Black had always made her mother look pale but now, she almost looked like she could be see through and her green eyes, which always looked like wildfire, were not two blank and empty ponds.

She approached slowly, not wanting to scare her. And that was the strangest thing of all, she could never imagine her mother scared, but she had not seemed to notice her as of yet, her eyes locked on to her hands which she played with, twisting her fingers almost mindlessly. Myrcella knelt down next to her and gently placed her hand on her wrist, she felt so cold. "Mother, it's me. Myrcella. I came back."

Her words seemed to reach her as her mother looked up from her hands and stared at her, a spark of recognition, of life came back into her eyes at that moment and Myrcella didn't think that she had seen anything more beautiful in her life. "Myrcella?" Her voice was as rough and croaky as one of the large brown toads that Trystane had shown her on the banks of the Greenblood and she wondered how long it had been since she had spoke. "You're in Dorne, they stole you from me."

"No mama." Myrcella brought her hand up as placed it on her cheek as she guided her mother's hand up to her own. "See? I'm real, I came back once I had heard what had happened. I'm here, and I am not leaving you again. I promise."

"You're here." Her mother repeated as she stared into her eyes, tears rolling fresh down her cheeks and leaving new tracks. "You're really here, aren't you?" Myrcella nodded and that was it, her mother lunged forward and pulled her close and buried her head into her hair and Myrcella held her tight as she began to cry. She had never seen her mother like this, it was unnerving as it was heartbreaking.

After a few moments her mother calmed down and pulled away, rubbing at her eyes with a vengeance, almost as if she was ashamed that someone had seen her cry but then if Myrcella knew her mother as well as she though that she did then that was probably because she was, in fact, ashamed of her tears. Her mother was the proudest woman that she had ever known.

Once she had stopped rubbing at her eyes she reached out and brushed her golden hair back behind her ears, her fingers brushing against her neck as eyes that were mirrors of her own stared into her. The Queen Mother swallowed heavily for a moment and when she spoke, Myrcella honestly did not know what to make of how her voice sounded. "You're the Queen."

Myrcella didn't know what to say to that, so she simply nodded. Her mother's head ducked and her shoulders shook and for a moment she thought that she was crying silently but when she leaned in, she realised that she was laughing. Cersei Lannsiter threw her head back, threw her arms across her middle and laughed and laughed and laughed, she laughed so hard that her tears stared once again.

"Younger and more beautiful, well, the old witch was right about that at least." Her mother muttered in between giggle once she had calmed down enough to speak, and Myrcella had no idea what to say to that. Her mother stood from her chair and took a very shaky steps towards the table in the middle of the room, picked up a pitcher and poured herself a goblet of wine which she soon drunk deep from.

"He killed them you know, he killed both your brothers." Myrcella didn't need to ask who she had meant, when she had read the words that had named Uncle Tyrion a kinslayer, who had murdered both of her brothers, she hadn't wanted to believe it. When she had been smaller, she could remember uncle Tyrion carrying her on his back like he was a horse. She had loved him, she hadn't wanted to believe it. She could believe that he might kill Joffery, but not Tommen. Tommen was too good, too sweet.

And her uncle wouldn't be so stupid as to get caught.

"And you killed him." That news had hurt more than Joffery, but less than Tommen. The entire world had seemed to fallen into the flames as late. She breathed deep through her noise and stood as tall as she could though her mother was still an inch or so taller than her. "That was poorly done Mother, you did not know of his guilt then. He should have been put to trial, so that we might have known the truth."

A look of shook passed over her mother's features before she turned back to the table and poured herself another glass of wine. "I saw two of my children die in front of me, murdered at what should have been a happy day. I apologise for not being, perhaps, in the right mind. He murdered them, I know that he did it. He threatened me you know? I invited him to dinner one night and asked that he kept his whoring in the brothels where it belonged, he threatened to have Tommen beaten and raped and nearly broke my arm, before saying he would burn my joy to ashes."

A shock of bitterness slammed into Myrcella then, she was certain enough that her mother was leaving some things out as she was oft like to do but she had gotten used to telling when her mother was lying to her and she was not lying to her now. But at the same time, Uncle Tyrion threatening Tommen in such a way, didn't seem possible.

She took a deep breath after a moment and rubbed at her eyes before she looked back up at her mother. "It's done now regardless, we can't change it however we might wish to." At her mother frowned and took another sip of her wine. Myrcella continued on. "I need to go, I am expected at a meeting of the small council."

Her Mother nodded and placed her goblet down on the table before she turned and walked towards her, looking more alive with each moment that passed. "Very well, let us go."

She had been expecting that, but her Mother had only been Joffery's regent for a year and she was too old for one. "Mother, please I need you to stay here. I want you to bring up some food and eat it, regain your strength." Just as her mouth dropped open to complain, Myrcella moved quickly and took hold her hands gently. "I know you are my most steadfast ally, I am going to need you in the days to come and I need you to be strong. I will give you a full account of what was discussed."

Her mother did not look happy but she gave in more painless than Myrcella had hoped, she pressed two kisses to her cheeks and made her way out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She turned to one the guardsmen. "The Queen Mother is hungry, send someone down to the kitchens and tell them to bring up whatever she wants to eat." The guard nodded and she turned her attention to her uncle. "Shall we go, Lord Commander?"

Her uncle nodded and began to escort her through the hallways of the holdfast once again, as they walked she felt eyes on her, pot boys and maid servants no doubt who wanted to catch sight of the first ruling Queen in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. She imagined that she would have to get used to such looks, though all she wanted to do was to be back on the boat and play a game of tiles with Trystane or speak with Arianne.

They soon came to the small council chamber, the guardsman nodded and opened the door and the herald on the other side announced her and all the eyes in the room landed on her. Her Lord Grandfather was sitting at the head of the table, in her place, with an almost ease, as though he belonged there more than she did or ever would.

Ser Kevan was sitting at his right, she hadn't meet her grand uncle before she was seven but even back then she could remember that she did not like him, she didn't like him at all. He was a portly man and he seemed to almost blend in to the background when compared to his brother, sitting down from him was another plump and bald man who she recognised instantly as Lord Varys, the master of whispers. Sitting across from him old Grand Maester Pycelle, who had used to slip Myrcella sweets.

The last man at the table was also the plumpest but still not big enough to be called fat, in his youth he might have been handsome but time had ruined most of that even though traces of the beauty he had passed down to his sons could still be seen. It was the first time she had ever truly seen him and yet, Myrcella could already tell that Mace Tyrell was not a man who had been told no often.

"Your grace, I hope you will forgive us, but as the most present members of your council were gathered we decide that certain matters could not be made to wait. Now that you are here of course, there is much that we would like to hear your opinion on." Her grandfather stood up from the chair and moved to sit on the chair at the left, Myrcella moved and took her seat at the head of the table, wondering if the small council meeting would dare start if it had been a king who was not present.

Her uncle took his place at the foot of the table, she hadn't really been looking before now but he truly did look terrible. His golden hair was shock white and she hadn't missed the hand that was itself missing. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but now wasn't the time and she had been so distracted with everything else that she hadn't thought to ask.

"My lords, before we continue I would simply like to say that I do not take the crown with any joy in my heart, I have lost two brothers who I would have been proud to call my king and I know would have been two of the greatest that Westeros had ever seen." The lie slipped from her mouth easily, Joffery was vicious and petty and cruel, Westeros had been spared another Mad King with his death, though she took little true joy in it. Joffery had been a monster, but he was still her brother.

Tommen was good and sweet and kind, well meaning with no meanness or maliciousness in his entire body. He could have been a good king, but her brother would have been far too malleable. The lords and ladies of the royal court would swoop down on him, dig in their claws and rip him to shreds. As awful as it sounded, she hoped that he had found some peace, that he was in the finest of the Seven Heavens.

"But I learned that life is not often about what we want, but the duty that we are given. By the laws of gods and men, I am the rightful queen of these Seven Kingdoms and I assure you, I shall do all that is in my power to set matters right. And I know that I can trust in you, my most noble of lords, to help me when it comes to this."

"Well said Your Grace." Varys spoke then, in that gentle and soft tone that sent a shiver up her spine. Her mother had often complained that Varys couldn't be trusted, and she was right. "And I know I speak for all of us when I say that we are your loyal servants, and in any way that we can serve we shall be glad to do so."

"Here here!" Mace Tyrell chimed in from his seat, lifting his goblet of Arbor gold up before he leaned in, his eyes were alight with hunger and not for food. "But as your grace says, there is a realm to be put to rights and if I may be so bold, I say we get to it."

From then on it was simply details, the coronation and the feast, Lord Randyll Tarly and how he was dealing with some outlaws in the Riverlands and what a problem they were causing. What they didn't speak of, she noted, was another royal wedding. And she was fairly certain she knew why that was. The Tyrell alliance had come with a marriage, after all. What was to keep them now that there were no more sons to wed his only daughter.

Sansa Stark was also brought up, no one had seen her since the wedding. No one was sure exactly how but she managed to escape from the city in all of the chaos and confusion, Varys swore that the moment that his little birds heard word of her whereabouts then he would present it to the council as soon as he could. Her Lord Grandfather was quite insistent that she be found as she was the key to the North.

The final matter to discuss was the absent post of Master of Coin, Lord Baelish was now married to Lysa Arryn and had been named the Lord of Harrenhal. Her uncle had been named the Master of Coin but now it was absent once again, Lord Varys and the Grand Maester were both quick to suggest a dozen names but Lord Tyrell seemed quite instant on an uncle of his named Garth, for a moment Myrcella wondered if the man might demand that they build him his own throne.

Soon enough the meeting to the small council came to an end, Grand Maester Pycelle was the first out and he mentioned that while she had a fine education, when she had brothers there was no need to give her the education that a ruler would need as it was unlikely that she would ever truly need it. He offered to educate her on the matters that she would need to know and Myrcella accepted graciously.

Lord Varys was next and he spoke once again of how he was her loyal servant and she jested about how if he kept it up, she might summon him to empty her chamber pot and pour her bathwater. That seemed to tickle the Eunuch and he was soon off in a fluster of giggles as he left the room, Mace Tyrell left and spoke of the beauty of Highgarden in a way that she imagined was trying to be subtle.

Soon enough, it was just herself, her uncle, her grand uncle and her grandfather in the chamber. Once she was certain that they were alone and no one was going to come back in, she sighed heavily and walked over to her chair and sat down into it, slumping slightly as she rubbed at her eyes. "They are like a pack of wild crows, each of them wanting something else. Is it always like this?"

"I am afraid so, but you handled yourself well. Indeed, better than I was expecting." Her Grandfather spoke before he stood. "Lord Mace can be a trying man, and certainly a grasping one. Alas, we need Highgarden if we are to have a chance of keeping you on the throne. Do you understand what that means?"

Only a fool wouldn't understand what it meant. "It means we need to keep Highgarden which means a marriage, he has three sons, one wed, one a queensguard but one who is perfectly healthy aside from a bad leg and the heir of Highgarden to boot. You want me to marry Willas Tyrell." She closed her eyes, counted to ten to gather her courage and spoke out. "You do remember that I am betrothed to Trystane Martell? Who is here? If we break with him, then we lose Sunspear."

"Dorne and it's spears can not hope to match the strength of Highgarden and Casterly Rock, if Prince Doran is wise then he will see that. If he is not wise, then we have his brother and his son as well as dozens of noble lords and ladies from many Dornish Houses of note." Lord Tywin Lannister stood before her and threatened to smile. "He won't make a move, and even then he wouldn't have much support. Regardless, you will marry Willas Tyrell."

"I will not." Myrcella stood then and tried to be brave when she felt her grandfather's cold eyes burrowing into her, seeing what she truly was inside of her. She commended herself inside for not flinching. "I did not wish to go to Dorne, but uncle Tyrion made me. I have grown fond of Trystane and I will not break with him, I pay my debts too."

"And if we lose Mace Tyrell? Your fondness for the boy and Dorne alone will not be enough to keep you on the throne." His voice didn't raise beyond his normal tone, that was the worst thing about it. The calm before the storm that was Tywin Lannister. "I am your hand and your grandfather, you will do as I command and you will marry Willas Tyrell."

Myrcella was silent for a moment before she sat back down in her chair, she could almost feel the sense of victory that radiated from him at that moment. She took more joy than she should have done in shattering it. "You were Joffery's hand, not mine. I did not name you to that office, I didn't name any of you to any off the offices that you now hold. I am the queen, the Queen has the right to appoint who she will. Give me your chain grandfather."

She relished in the look of shock on his face but it was only there for half a heartbeat, his face becoming as stone as Casterly Rock. "I warn you Myrcella, don't be foolish. Do you truly think it wise to make an enemy of me?"

"Do you truly think it wise to threaten your queen? I will forgive that as you are clearly shocked and distraught, who can blame you for that." Myrcella leaned forward and clutched her arm rests. "I shall not forgive it again, you will give me the chain!"

Her Grandfather stared at her for a moment before he took off the chain and threw it down to the ground, spinning on his feet and marching towards the door. Before he could open it however, Myrcella called out. "Grandfather! You do not have my leave to go! And you are not a petulant child to throw things when he does not get his way, come back here and pick up the chain and hand it to me."

Tywin turned to face her, his face shocked and this time it held while her uncle and great uncle stared at her with no attempt to hide their own. "What?" He hissed.

"Come back here, pick up the chain and hand it to me. You are a noble lord and have served well and ably, I am not blind to that. But you will pick up the chain and hand it to me, accepting your dismissal with as much dignity as I can only hope to expect from my Lord of Lannister." She held out her hand and did not look away from her Grandfather's eyes.

Tywin stalked forward like a lion stalking his prey, he bent down to pick up the long golden chain and walked towards her. For half a heartbeat, Myrcella thought that he might strike her with the chain of interlocking golden hands, she showed no fear even so. He dropped the link into her hand and Myrcella nodded and looked away, dismissing him without a word.

As soon as the small council door chamber slammed shut, Myrcella wanted to let out a breath of relief but she knew that she wasn't done yet as her Uncle Kevan began to speak. "Myrcella, I do know what has come over you but you must go and apologise to your grandfather and offer him back his position before-

"Uncle Kevan, as you have never had a thought that my Lord Grandfather did not have first, your opinions are less than worthless to me. You are no longer my master of laws, in case you were wondering. You may leave." The knight stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to do, before he stood and fled to go after his brother.

And then it was just herself and Uncle Jaime, Myrcella closed her eyes and let out a sigh. When she opened them again, she saw that her uncle was staring at her. "Are you about to tell me that I just made the worst mistake that I could possibly make in my entire life."

"I don't know in your entire life, I wasn't there for all of it." For a moment he looked so sad but soon it was gone and he carried on. "But I can tell you this, anyone who has made Tywin Lannister their enemy has come to regret it, sooner or later."

"Maybe, but I would rather be his enemy than his puppet. Dancing to his tune, I refuse that." She stood from her chair, walked over to a side desk and brought herself some paper, a quill, an inkwell, sealing wax and a lit candle. "Now I have to move quickly, Uncle, I need you to go to the Master-at-arms and tell him that all the guards are to stand down and the Dornish are free to go, I also need you to go to wherever Prince Oberyn is being held and bring him to me, and I need you to do it now."

Jaime nodded and stood and turned to go to the door. "Oh and uncle." Myrcella called and when he looked at her, she kept her face a blank mask. "Lord Tywin does not have my leave to leave the Red Keep, do you understand?"

He stood for a moment before he nodded and left the room, Myrcella let out a sigh and began to write. Hoping that this would not prove to be the worst mistake that she had ever made.

End of Chapter Two.

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 **Wow, I gotta admit I think this is one of my favourite chapters that I have ever written for anything and I hoped you liked it as much as I did writing it, especially when it comes to Myrcella.**

 **Also, unless it isn't clear, Myrcella is not aware that Jaime is her father in this story. I consider it to be an invention of the show and not one that I am overly fond of.**

 **Please review, favourite and follow if you enjoyed.**

 **With much love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	4. Chapter 3

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Three.

The air was crisp and heavy, fresh in a way it could only be after a storm had blown away on the wind. A few fat grey clouds still hung in the sky but the wind was carrying them away, to spend their shower on some place. Many men would never call Randyll Tarly a poet, or a peaceful man, and he could not deny that the peace that fell on him as he approached the Red Keep on horseback was something that he had been sorely missing over the past few years.

Maidenpool had been a trying experience, to be sure. Rebuilding a town and bring the justice that it had so sorely lacked was never an easy duty, and the outlawers, Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, the new one, Stoneheart had not been making it any easier on him. He was fairly certain that some of the smallfolk in the riverlands were hiding them, unfortunate if it was true but not something he could not handle. Justice was a sword that bite both ways.

He had been preparing to lead a sortie out personally to deal with them when his page came running up, a Fossoway boy, with a less clutched in his hands. The queen had summoned him to present himself at King's Landing, as soon as possible. For half a moment he wondered what Lady Margaery could want with him when he recalled that his liege lord's daughter never did become Queen and that the Queen in King's Landing ruled in her own right.

Still, Randyll was a loyal man and Mace had made no intention known to him that they were going to beat a different house, of course he was more likely to trust such a thing to that fool Redwyne instead of him and while Mace was not perhaps the most politically sensitive man in the Seven Kingdoms, he knew how it would look if he started to flit from one camp to the next.

And as far as he was aware, Mace was still the master of ships. So long as that was the case, Randyll had no reason to refuse. He had left Maidenpool in Dickon's charge, his son was young but he was more than competent and he was leaving his personal maester here to oversee him. Moonton could be a problem but since he had locked him in a tower cell, he hadn't been like to contradict him.

He dismount from his horse as soon as he was in the inner yard, his tail trailing after him. Stable boys ran over and took his horse and the sound of footsteps drew his attention, the Kingslayer approached him. Dressed all in shining white, he seemed as pale as a spectre in a song with hair that was almost white. "Lord Randyll, welcome back to King's Landing, I don't think either us expected you to be back so soon."

"I am not a man to deny my Queen's commands, are you to take me to her?" The disgraced knight frowned slightly but as soon as it was there it was gone and he nodded, inviting him to follow him through the great corridors of Maegor's, neither of them said anything as they walked, the only noise around them the sound of their own footsteps, what did they have to say to one another, truly?

They soon arrived in front of what he assumed was the Queen's solar, though it had been a different one to the one that King Joffery had used. The Kingslayer knocked on the door and it opened, a Dornish girl dressed in a silk dress opened it and glanced between them both. "Lord Randyll Tarly, to see the queen at her invitation."

"Ah yes, the Queen is expecting you my lord, please come in and follow me." The girl held the door open and Randyll walked in with the Lord Commander following behind him, the door was shut and the Dornish girl walked further into the chamber with both of the older men following her. "Your Grace? Lord Randyll has arrived."

The queen was sitting behind her desk and Randyll was almost shocked, Prince Joffery had been young when he had died and thus he knew that his sister was going to be young as well but he hadn't expected her to quite look as young as she did. Her crown was a simple golden circlet with a single emerald set into it and when she looked up from the paper that she was writing on, he saw that her eyes were the same shade of green as the emerald.

"Ah, I see. Thank you Tana, you may leave us. You as well Lord Commander." Randyll felt the kingslayer's frown and yet he did not disagree with his queen's command, turning on his feet and leaving the room. The door opened and shut and then it was only them. Queen Myrcella gestured at the seat on the other side of her desk once she had sat down and spoke. "Please sit down Lord Randyll, and thank you for coming as quickly as you could."

"My queen summoned me and Maidenpool is not so very far away." It had still taken nearly six days to travel and it had not been an all together comfortable ride but it was done and dusted now, he sat in the chair and leaned in to it slightly. "Your Grace, forgive me for being blunt. But why am I here? I was instructed to restore the peace and I must be in Maidenpool to do so, the Riverlands are very volatile at the moment."

"I have no doubt that they are and I do not mean to keep you away from your duties for a moment longer than is needed, of course." The queen stood up and picked up a pitcher and quickly poured them both a cup of Arbour Gold, he couldn't deny his dislike for Paxter Redwyne but he also couldn't deny that he enjoyed his wine as much as any man did.

The queen lifted her goblet and took a sip before she placed it back down on her table. "I first of all would like to make an apology to you, I am afraid that you have missed Lord Rowan."

"Rowan?" He frowned.

"Mathis Rowan? The lord of Goldengrove? I had heard that the two of you were old friends. Perhaps I was mistaken?" Friends was perhaps overstating it a little bit, of all his fellow Bannermen, Rowan annoyed him the least. He was a dutiful man without a doubt but he didn't care for him any more than he cared about the rest of them.

"No your grace, I know who he is. I simply did not know that he was still in King's Landing."

"He isn't, he left the city three days ago with my leave to return to Goldengrove to put his affairs into order before he takes up his new duties."

"His new duties?"

"I have named Lord Rowan the new, and perhaps the first, Hand of the Queen." It seems he couldn't hide his shock any better than the young Queen could hide her amused smirk, she tried by taking a sip of her wine. "The small council needs to be changed, I have decided for example that Lord Mace's talents are wasted as master of ships and thus have named him the new master of laws instead, now you may wonder what that means for you?"

"The simple fact of that matter is, I am the queen and I mean to be as good one as I can be. Sadly, that does mean admitting to my own limitations. Lord Rowan will be a good hand, I have no doubt to that but only once the war is ended and peace is restored. As the queen, I have the title of Protector of the Realm, tell me, how many men do you think would follow a woman, let alone a young girl, into battle?"

None of his men would, he was sure enough of that if nothing else. And who could blame them for that? The shame of being lead by a woman into a man's world would be overwhelming for any of them. It seemed he did not need to answer however as the Queen continued. "I understand, thus I believe such a title should be given to someone, the right someone, the right man who could use it."

"Lord Randyll Tarly, it is by my decree that you be granted the title of Protector of the Realm, with all of its powers, honours and authorities. You will be my strong sword arm, my left hand, my fist as I trust that Lord Rowan will be my right, do you accept this?" The shock he felt filling him was like nothing he had felt before in his life as exactly what she meant filled him.

He wasn't blind to what this meant, he and Mathis were both bannermen to Mace and they were both powerful lords in their own right and the Queen meant to elevate them both to positions higher than the warden of the South. He had to admit, it was deftly done. And tempting beyond a doubt. "Forgive me your Grace, but is not Lord Tywin your hand?"

The queen's face did not waver as she stared at him. "My Lord Grandfather is an old man and he will serve better at Casterly Rock and as Warden of the West. He will be returning to the Westerlands after I am wed to Trystane Martell. Now I must ask again, do you accept my offer?" The queen stood up and held out her hand.

Randyll stared at the small soft hand for a moment before he stood up and took it, gently shaking it.

Well played indeed.

End of Chapter Three

* * *

 **I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review, a follow and a favourite if you enjoyed.**

 **Much love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	5. Chapter 4

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Four.

Her maid cinched her corset as tight as it would go to make the dress fit, the wine had been the only thing to make the pain bearable and she had done naught but sit in the darkness of her chambers and drunk the wine until she was too drunk to be sad. The inactivity had taken it's toil on her she knew, but her grief had crippled her beyond doing anything else.

It had always struck her as odd, all the times she had thought of been being rid of her little brother, her Valonqar, she always imagined that she would be so happy, would become so light that she would fly and finally be rid of it all. But she had only been able to do it when both of her sons, her pride and her joy, were stolen away from her and the Mother's madness had fallen on to her. Tyrion had won, in the end. He had kept his promise to her.

The wood's witch had been wrong, she had dealt with her Valonqar and he would not be her end. And she had lost two children, but she still had Myrcella and she would die a thousand deaths before she let anyone take her away from her, not again. Never again. Her maid finished tightening her dress and brought over a hair net of pale moonstones.

She had always hated black, how pale it made her look. Yet, she was not ready to come out of morning. She couldn't, perhaps she would never be truly read. The hair net was soon in place and Cersei turned to leave her chambers, it was time for the meeting of the Small Council.

Cersei was not the regent, she had been Joff's for only slightly over a year and Myrcella was not young enough for one but she knew that her daughter would still need her help when it came to ruling, Myrcella saw that as well as she had invited her to sit on the small council as well. She couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and of pleasure about how her father had been stripped of his position and his place and yet she still had her daughter's ear, she wished she had been there to see that. She almost wished he had chocked on his rage.

Jaime was waiting for her outside and to see him in such a way still hurt her, he was still thin from his captivity and his hand was still gone. His hair was still white, so much about him had changed. He had been her other half once, her golden reflection. Now...now he was a stranger, a pale stranger who looked more an old man than he did her twin.

And yet aside from the wine, he had still been the only thing that gave her comfort in the nights following her sweet son's murders. He still touched her like only Jaime could, had made her feel good, had made it good, in such a way that only Jaime could do. It was still him, it had to be. If she had lost Jaime as well, on top of all the rest of it.

It would kill her.

He couldn't touch her now, not as they walked through the hallways of the Red Keep, any one could turn the corner and catch them and yet it was always her that had to remind Jaime of that. She didn't have to slap his hand away from her once, it was just another reminder of how much he had changed yet she did her best to show that it did not phase her.

They soon arrived in the small council chamber, Myrcella was already there and Cersei was fairly certain that her daughter had attended, and called, more meetings in the past few weeks that she had been the queen than Robert had ever done in all the years that he had been king. He had always been a fat fool, honestly, the kingdoms should have thanked her for getting rid of him.

And yet the fools were praised, given the honour and the glory and she had been left with the shame and the misery and the pain and bearing the bruises which Robert gifted her more than jewels and expected to bear all of it with a smile. She had refused, she had always refused and they had never to hate her for it. Was it any wonder that she hated them so much?

She felt the dark trembling's of her rage brewing inside of her and rested her hand against one of the chairs situated around the table to steady herself for a moment before she sat down and turned her attention back to her daughter.

Myrcella had always been so beautiful, ever since she was a babe born with a head full of golden curls and dark green eyes and when she had been a girl, she had been so pretty. Squires and pages were always presenting her with flowers and her daughter had accepted them with grace and her courtesies were always correct even though those of that birth could never hope to marry a princess so high above them.

In the flush of womanhood and a queen now, Myrcella's beauty had only grown. She was dressed in a gown of dark blue, so dark it was almost black with golden frills and crimson lining with a burnt orange sash encircling her waist. Her crown rested peacefully atop her curls, the gold almost blending in among the curls of the same colour with an emerald being the only thing that made it stick out.

If she had made the crown, she would have made it richer. Something truly fitting for a queen of Lannister, three lioness prowling for their prey with emeralds for their eyes and rubies in their mouth. Something to show their wealth and their might but Myrcella had insisted that the circlet would serve well enough for her, nor would she wear her brother's crowns. "It's too big." She had told her as she asked her to summon her goldsmiths. "And I am not Joffery, nor am I Tommen. I will have my own crown."

The matter was done regardless and the crown was only a symbol at any rate, and it was a better one than the one that Robert had chosen for himself.

Others were in the small council chamber, but going by some of the empty seats they were not the last to arrive. Her daughter's betrothed was sitting on her right but not in the seat to the right of her but a seat down from that one. Trystane Martell was handsome enough, she supposed. He was tall and a few years old than Myrcella, he had the dark curls and black eyes and smooth dark olive skin of most Dornishmen with a noble looking nose and plump lips.

She remembered the way those lips had curled into a pleased smile as he had clapped with the rest of them as he watched the High Septon bless her and place the circlet on her and proclaimed her the Queen of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm. Of course he was pleased, he was going to be ruling right along side her.

But if he thought that he was going to be able to rule through her daughter, or that he could shove her to the side while he ruled in her name, then Cersei would make sure that he had another thing coming. No one was going to steal what was her daughter's by the rights of gods and men, she would not allow it. She would deal with anyone who tried to.

Oberyn Martell was there as well, dressed in Dornish styles robes of orange and yellow and red as he leaned back in his chair. A younger woman was sitting next to him with the same dark curls but with rich dark amber eyes instead of black ones, she was older than Trystane Martell so he had to assume that he was his sister, and the heiress of Sunspear besides, Arianne.

It had always struck her as being so unfair that such law should rule in the south and yet not the west, she was older than Tyrion and Jaime and had always been the one to listen to Father while Jaime had run off clanging sticks together with Addam Marbrand or one of the Crakehall or Brax boys while Tyrion had been drinking and marrying whores, she was the oldest and the most well suited.

But the gods and the men had decreed that women could only inherit when they had no brothers and the gods in their blind malice had made her a woman, soft and weak and destined to hide in castles while the men went to fight and to die. And yet now, with as long as she had waited, it seemed that now her time was finally coming for her.

Her daughter ruled as Queen in her own right and Jaime was the Lord Commander of the Queensguard and was forbidden by vows from holding any lands or properties and Tyrion was a kinslayer and dead besides, she was all that father had left and if he dared to steal it from her than she would have the full power of the crown behind her.

And when Father finally died and was being attended by a retinue of great men in hell, it would finally be her turn. The Lady of Casterly Rock and Lady Paramount of the Westerlands would stand high above any such lord who had ever come before her. Books would be dedicated to her, and in time, all that would be written of her father was that he was the Father of Cersei Lannister. She would surpass him, there was no other choice.

Mace Tyrell was sitting in his chair and looking very uncomfortable as he tried, in a way that Cersei imagined was trying to be subtle, to shoot glares at Trystane Martell and his sister and his uncle. She knew why of course, he was angry that his cripple of an eldest had been passed over for the Dornish Prince, a member of the same family that the Red Viper who had crippled his dear son belonged too, and was sitting at this very table besides.

In that moment, Cersei realised that she was suddenly much fonder of Trystane Martell than she had been a moment ago. Not only was he unlikely to be the beautiful, younger queen that would take all that she held dear from her, he was not crippled besides. She would not have her only daughter, her last child, have a dog boy with a bad leg forced on to her.

She had endured humiliation after humiliation in order to survive, she would do all she could to spare Myrcella from that. No matter the cost.

Pycelle and Varys were the last two present around the table, Pycelle had been strong before Tyrion had condemned him to rot in the black cells but now he was barely clinging on to life and any strength he had left in him had been completely knocked out of him, he would not last the winter and they would sooner rather than later be required to send to the citadel for a new Grand Maester.

Well, it would all be for the better. Pycelle had always been a doddering old fool who liked to pretend that he knew more than he did and the new queen would need new men, younger men, to show her the way to go forward. Not fat old cravens who would sooner stick their heads in the sand and clucked at her for so many things that did not matter.

And as for Varys, she had always known him to be untrustworthy. All spymasters were, when she had first come to court she was certain that she had no truer friend here and that he was the only one that she could truly trust and yet she had learned the mistake and she made certain that she wouldn't make it again, it would be better for the eunuch to lose his head. They would be able to find a reason for it, she was certain enough of that.

"Mother, Lord Commander, I am glad that you both have come. We won't be waiting much longer, we are only waiting for a few others to arrive." Myrcella spoke as she reached out and picked up her goblet, sipping at the wine for a moment. It was at that moment Cersei realised the seat to the left and the right of her daughter were empty, there was a message there but she was not certain of what. "There is a matter that should be discussed however before the others arrive, one I feel that can not wait any longer, Lord Tyrell?"

"Your Grace?" He hadn't been expecting to be called upon and neither had Cersei, she reached up to pick up her own goblet and took a sip of the wine and held the goblet there to hide the frown that formed when she realised it was a Dornish Red instead of a wine from the Arbour, it was too sour to her taste but she had learned long ago how to hide her displeasures.

"I trust that you know that you are one of the most trusted member's of my Small Council, and a dear friend besides. However, as Master of Ships I can not help but feel that your talents are...perhaps being wasted when they could be put to much better use?" She smiled then and looked as bright as the sun as she did so. "I wonder if perhaps, Master of Law would suit you better?"

Mace Tyrell didn't know what to make of that, he reached out to drink from his goblet but seemed to think better of it, he didn't like the wine much either. After a moment he coughed into his own hand and spoke. "Your grace does me great honour, but there is much and more to be done. The royal fleet needs to be rebuilt after the battle of Blackwater, would it do to have the Small Council moved about in such a way?"

"I understand your concern, but I think that you would serve the realm better as the man in charge of it's laws, I hope I can trust in you to take the position?" Mace Tyrell knew he could not deny it so he accepted the position with as much grace as he could manage though it was clear that her daughter was not done with him yet. "To another, somewhat less important matter, I am in need of ladies in waiting, your daughter and her cousins were said to brighten the city so incredibly when they were here, I know it is somewhat of a step down from being the Queen but if Lady Margaery and her cousins would consider attending me-"

Mace did not even give her time to finish the sentence and Cersei had to frown at the insolence and at the sudden cheer that had found it's way into the lord's tone. "Your Grace, my daughter would be beyond honoured to attend you and her cousins as well. I will send for them as soon as possible, they were hoping to attend your grace's wedding as a matter of fact."

"I shall be happy to invite them, a date will be set soon enough but other matters must be settled first. Specifically, the wedding itself needs to be planned." Cersei felt Myrcella's gaze on her and she knew that soon the duties of planning the wedding would fall to her, she had to hide a frown, she was the heir to Casterly Rock, how many heirs would be expected to plan a wedding?

Before any more could be said on the matter there was a knock at the chamber door and a servant opened it, he turned and walked to Myrcella and bent to whisper into her ear. A moment passed and Myrcella nodded and the servant rushed back to open the door fully. The man that walked in was lowborn with a stye on one eye and a bald head, he was tall and broad shouldered and had a strong jaw and dressed in the armour of a member of the City Watch and yet he did look like a man who had just walked into a lion's pit.

Myrcella seemed quick to answer the confusion that would be on all of their faces. "My lords, my ladies. This is Humfrey Waters, the former Captain of the Dragon's gate and the new Commander of the City Watch, please sit." The man seemed to be relieved and took a seat, clearly trying to make himself more comfortable though he didn't seem to have much success.

There were some formal words of greeting but Jaime did not seem happy at his presence at he turned his attention to Myrcella, to their daughter who didn't know the truth. Who could never know the truth. "Your Grace, I am sorry but Ser Addam Marbrand is the Commander of the City Watch, and is a more than adequate one."

"He was, and now he is not. I summoned him to my solar at the crack of dawn this morning. We had a long discussion and he agreed that he would no longer be the commander of the watch." Myrcella held up her hand to stop Jaime as it looked like he was about to speak. "I do not mean to throw Ser Addam out into the cold, he will have a new position of high honour but I believe the men of King's Landing will fight better if it is a man of King's Landing who will need them. It is also my decree, that from this moment, the Commander of the City Watch will sit on all small council meetings, unless his duties provide a conflict to prevent him from attending."

"It's an honour, your grace." The lowborn bastard spoke and Myrcella smiled happily, Jaime did not look soothed but he soon settled back into his chair and said nothing more.

"Now, another matter must be discussed. The matter of the Queen's Hand, Lord Tywin was relived of his duties but the position must be filled. I wish for my lords and ladies to know that a decision has been made when it comes to that score as well as to another matter." There was a knock at the door then a slow and languid smile spread across her face. "Ah, here we are."

The door to the small council chamber opened and Mathis Rowan and Randyll Tarly walked in, Mace Tyrell looked shocked and was about to speak but he was struck as dumb as Cersei felt when they all saw the golden chain of hands that went around Lord Rowan's neck. Rowan sat at her daughter's right while Tarly sat at her left. Myrcella smiled and spoke. "Is it the judgement of the Queen, that Lord Mathis Rowan of Goldengrove would serve us most proficiently as Hand of the Queen. Lord Tarly, has been granted the title of Protector of the Realm, to see that peace is restored through out Westeros and to represent the Queen on the field of battle."

Silence had fallen on the chambers of the Small Council, Mace Tyrell looked like he was about to pop and she was fairly certain that no man should be that shade of red, Lord Rowan looked as pleased as a cat who had gotten a pitcher of cream and a gaggle of canaries while Lord Tarly looked as serious as ever, Prince Oberyn looked amused and Princess Arianne was smirking vicious while Trystane sending a look adoration towards her daughter.

Pycelle looked as though some man had just slapped him and the new Commander of the City Watch looked just as confused, if not more so. Varys was harder to judge, he didn't look surprised exactly but at the same time, he didn't look as sure as he normally did. He must have known something that would happen with these two men, but perhaps he hadn't exactly expected this.

Cersei glanced at Jaime and it irritated her to see that he seemed less concerned about this than he did that his friend had his title of a city guard taken away. Did he not understand what any of this meant, their daughter had given away one of her titles? It was foolish, what king would give away one of his and not be seen as weak fool and craven, no, this couldn't happen.

Myrcella would not allow any of them to dwell on it to long and the meeting began in fall, Mace Tyrell downed his goblet and did not seem to care much for the taste of the sour red any more before he pointed out that they now needed a new Master of Ships as well as a Master of Coin, he suggested both Garth the Gross once again for the Master of Coin and Paxter Redwyne for the Master of Ships.

Just what they needed, more Reachmen. One a Tyrell of Highgarden and the other one of Mace Tyrell's sworn bannermen, Myrcella thanked him for the suggestions and promised to think more on it before she prompted the discussion to go on to Sansa Stark. There had still been no word about the murdering little bitch yet and Arianne Martell suggested that perhaps the girl had made it back to the North and that one of her Father's bannermen might be hiding her. "It is no less than a Dornishman might do for me or my brothers, I would hope."

If that did turn out to be the truth then Cersei swore that she would have the entire north burnt to ashes, from White Harbour to Last Hearth, she swore that she would. Myrcella frowned and asked Varys if he had any of his little birds in the North, he claimed that he did any yet no word of the eldest Stark sister had come to him. The only Stark in the North now was Arya and she would soon be married to the Bastard of Bolton, the eunuch had a good chuckle at that.

The conversation soon enough came to the royal wedding, at which point Mace Tyrell poured himself another goblet of red. "Mother." When her daughter spoke to her Cersei straightened her back as she listened. "You planned Joff's wedding and I can understand if you do not wish to do so again, but it would take a great load of my mind if I could trust the task on to you."

"I shall do it, your Grace. Have no fear on that score."

"Excellent, I think we can all agree that seventy-seven courses are perhaps a little too much this time, perhaps fourteen would better suit us this time. The High Septon should be pleased that the gods are represented twice over." There was a general mummer of assent to that. "And while I will leave the planning of the entertainment to you Mother, I will thank you to not have any jousting dwarves. I imagine it was Joff's idea and while I am not at ease with speaking ill of my dear brother, I think we can all agree that it wasn't in the best of taste."

There was another mummer of assent around the table even as Cersei frowned, it wasn't Joff's idea. He might have given his blessing but it was Baelish who had found the wretched little creatures. Still, she let the wound pass for the moment, who knew what horror stories the Dornish had been filling Myrcella's head with when she had been a hostage in Sunspear.

Soon enough the meeting was over and everyone began to make their way out, Myrcella speaking with all of them for a word or two, before she commanded both Jaime and Herself to stay. Once they were alone, Myrcella pulled out a flagon of Arbour Gold and poured them both a cup and they all sat around the table, she took a sip of it before she spoke. "I need to tell you both something, and I need you both to listen to me because this is important."

"I need to speak to you as well, you've given the Reachmen too much voice. Too much power, Lord Rowan might be a good hand but he is Mace Tyrell's bannerman and so is Randyll Tarly, he will make a puppet out of you and within a year or two you will find yourself wed to Willas Tyrell." She didn't understand how Myrcella could be so blind as to what she was doing.

"I have not given Mace Tyrell anything, Randyll Tarly has never forgiven Mace for stealing the credit for defeating Father at Ashford, the men loath one another. Lord Rowan, according to rumour, was horrified when he learned that Mace had bent the knee and apparently wept for the Targaryen babes, he has no love for Mace either. Mace Tyrell has a house of glass, he looks like the most powerful man on the small council but he is not. And I will not be naming either Paxter Redwyne or Garth Tyrell to the small council, I have others in mind to fill those seats."

"Who?" It was Jaime who asked but Cersei found herself wondering.

"That can wait for the moment, they might not accept but we will see. Regardless, this is not what I wished to speak with you about. I have decided that Boros Blount shall be stripped of his white cloak for cowardice." Well, Cersei didn't see what that had to do with either of them but she couldn't deny that the news did please her. When she had heard the man had thrown down his sword when he was attacked by her twisted little brother's creatures on the road to Rosby and had given them Tommen, she wanted to have him whipped, loosing his cloak was the least that she could do.

Jaime didn't seem as though he was about to complain and Myrcella continued. "That is the position I mean for Ser Addam to have, he is quite receptive to the idea and many have told me is an honourable man and quite skilled at arms. However, you are the Lord Commander uncle, what do you say? Would you have any objection to him serving as a White Sword?"

"I am surprised that Addam would swear the vows, but he is a good man and a strong sword and yes, he is an improvement over Blount and I would be proud to have him as my brother." Jaime had always been fond of the Marbrand boy, when he wasn't with her he was always with him, exploring some cave or going ride together while she was forced to sit inside and sew with Jenye Farman and Melara Hetherspoon.

"I am glad to hear that, and now we come to the hard part." She said with a sigh as she took another sip of her wine. "I am sorry Uncle, I really truly am. But I am afraid that I have to strip you of your cloak as well."

Jaime looked like their daughter had struck him, he almost seemed to not understand the words. "Your grace, I don't- Why, how have I broken any vows that my removal is required?"

"You have broken no vows to me but with your sword hand gone, tell me true uncle, for all Ser Boros is a craven, if I summoned him right now and commanded the two of you to fight, could you beat him?" Jaime opened his mouth to speak but Myrcella spoke again before he could. "I am asking you as your niece to tell me true, do not make me command you as your Queen."

For a moment Jaime looked so lost but then he sighed heavily. "I don't think I could beat a squire who had just learned to pick up a sword at the moment your Grave, nevermind Ser Boros." Jaime drained his cup then and quickly poured himself another one and drained half of that.

"I am sorry Uncle, but I need you to do this for me. If I give you back to Grandfather, if it is from my order that he has his heir back, then I win him back to my side and I don't have to worry about if I am standing on a crumbling mountain. I have some allies but no so many that I can afford a war between the family." Myrcella made her case well and once Jaime finished his goblet he sighed and nodded.

"Thank you uncle, I will need to tell Grandfather of course." As she continued to speak, it was at that moment that Cersei realised that Casterly Rock had been ripped away from her once again and she had to bit her lip and grab fistfuls of her skirt in order to stop herself from screaming, she was so busy trying not to when she heard Myrcella starting to speak. "Mother?"

Cersei looked up and saw her daughter standing in front of her, the warm afternoon sun turning her hair to fine gold. "Yes?"

"I need to ask you to do something as well, I need you to marry Horas Redwyne." The goblet clattering against the floor sounded a thousand miles away and Jaime was staring at their daughter like she had grown a second head, Cersei felt as though she had been shoved into a vat of ice water.

The shock soon wore off and a weary chuckle escaped from her. "Horror? I will not."

Myrcella knelt in front of her and took hold of her hands, as she had done the day that she had come back to her. "I need you to do this for me, Horas will be heir to the Arbour and the Lord of House Redwyne one day and if having you be his wife act's as another check to Mace Tyrell's power. Paxter Redwyne will agree to the match, especially when he thinks that you are the heir to Casterly Rock and one of his grandchildren will be the loud of House Lannister, of course when he finds out I released Uncle Jaime from his vows, well, any assumptions he might have drawn will be his."

She wanted to scream, to rage and to cry. To scream that she was the heir of Casterly Rock and that she couldn't take this away from her but before she could speak, Myrcella cupped her cheek and spoke gently. "You always say that you'd do anything for the family, for you children. Well, I am your family and I am your child and this is what I need you to do."

Cersei stared at Myrcella like she would stare at a stranger, her hand came out to brush her golden hair back and once again marvelled at how beautiful she was, how young. She sighed and nodded and Myrcella pressed a kiss to her forehead as she stood up and promised that it wouldn't be for a while yet, not until other things had been sorted.

Myrcella left and then it was just herself and Jaime in the small council chambers, Cersei stood from her chair and walked over to pick up another flagon of wine which she used to fill up her goblet which she then held up into the air to toast. "To all I hold dear."

She didn't know if she would laugh or cry when Jaime stared at her like she was a madwoman, just like Melara stared at her in her dreams.

End of Chapter Four.

* * *

 **Another chapter done, next one will be the wedding**

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 **DiscordantSymphony**


	6. Chapter 5

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Five.

Jaime had once heard his Aunt Genna say that any woman looked beautiful on the day of her wedding, his daughter was no exception to the rule it seemed as she walked into the Great Sept of Baelor. Her golden curls fell loose around her shoulders and had grown so that they now fell down to between her shoulders. She was dressed in a gown of crimson velvet with Myrish lace selves and a golden lion prancing underneath a blazing sun all done in gold and orange thread was embroidered on her skirts. A train of yellows, oranges and reds, like a living flame, dragged across the floor after her.

Her crown was nestled among her curls and a golden pendent studded with rubies, amethysts and fire opals hung around her neck. His father lead his granddaughter down the aisle to where her future husband was waiting for her. Lord Tywin did not smile as he walked but Jaime knew his father well enough to see that this was the most pleased that he had been in days.

Of course he was pleased, he was going to get what he wanted most. Him back as his heir and a grandchild as ruler of all the seven kingdoms, a competent grandchild as well. Joffery had never been anything to him, no more than a spurt of seed into Cersei's cunt. But what little time he had spent around him, what little Cersei had always allowed him to spend with him, he knew that the boy was cruel and arrogant and it terrified him when he saw more of Aerys than he ever did Robert.

How could he make a son like that? How could he and Cersei, have ever made another mad king? He could almost laugh at the irony of it all, the slayer of one mad king and the maker of another. Either way the dice were rolled, it seemed history was always going to remember him as a monster.

Tommen had always been a sweet lad, though. He remembered when the boy had been smaller that he would often take to following him around, clutching to the hem of his white cloak to steady him. He had always been more fond of the lad, but even so Cersei had always been so worried about someone seeing the truth that she had soon put a stop to it.

Even so, Tommen had never been enough of a son to him for him to truly grieve that he had gone, he wasn't glad that he had died, not like with Joffery when that quiet part of himself had told him that it had probably been for the best that he would never truly have gotten as bad as he could have done, but he never felt the need to mourn for his younger son, not like a father should do at least.

Cersei had mourned for them though, she had mourned for them both. When he had returned to the city and had set out to finding her, he had been told that the Queen Mother had sealed herself inside of her chambers and would not come out. Dressed in black, with black bags under her eyes and so pale, she was still the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen in his life.

When she saw him, she looked almost as if she couldn't believe that he had returned to her but once she had overcome her disbelief she had come to him, crying into his chest and Jaime had held her tight. Cersei had always loved their children, more than anything in the world and Jaime had comforted her as best as he could but there was little that he could do to stop her tears though he had always tried his best.

He caught sight of her standing in the sept, in-between Princess Arianne and Prince Oberyn. She had shed her black gowns for one of green and white, Jaime had always loved her in green. Emeralds were scattered through out her hair and golden chocker with an emerald set in it was firmly wrapped around her throat. He knew that she had not come out of mourning yet, either for Joffery or for Tommen but Father had made it clear to her that she could not wear black at the wedding and Cersei had spat and growled but she had done as she was bid.

She didn't look happy as Myrcella began to climb the steps to stand next to her future husband in front of the High Septon, her lips had been pressed into a firm and thin line and her hands were clasped together tightly in front of her. He wasn't sure how much of her unhappiness was due to the actual match and more to do with the fact that now the wedding was done, their time together was almost at an end.

Ser Boros would be removed from the Kingsguard before him, it would be done quietly and with a minimum of fuss he hoped. Blount had been imprisoned in a tower cell the night before last to keep him out of the way and while Cersei had suggested that for cowardice and allowing Tyrion's men to take Tommen hostage on the way to Rosby that the craven deserved to have his head removed, and Jaime was not one to argue with that, Myrcella had wanted no more blood spilled on the matter.

Boros would be allowed to return to his family's lands and that would be the end of him, he might live but he would forever bear that mark of shame on him. Jaime didn't know the history or inner workings of House Blount but he had to have at least one older brother if he had taken the vows of the kingsguard and Jaime doubted that his Father would welcome him back with open arms, more as like he would force him into taking the black and the thought of the craven freezing to death at the Wall made him feel almost giddy.

And once Boros was gone, then it would be his turn. His removal from the Queensguard would be much more public and while he knew Myrcella meant it kindly, to see that he was removed from the Kingsguard honestly, to see that his service was being reward, it didn't seem much at all like an honour. It felt like a punishment, an added humiliation on top of everything else.

All the honourable lords and nobles ladies would come and see as his daughter removed his white cloak from his shoulders, they would jeer and point and mutter about how it should have been done a long time ago. He hated them, he hated all of them. Sometimes, in his darkest dreams, he thought that he should have let Aerys burn them all to ashes. He had saved the whole worthless lot of them.

But as soon as the thoughts would come to him they would be gone, Aerys was a monster and he did what he had to do and the fuck the lot of them who thought less of him. He supposed it didn't matter much anyway, once the cloak was off his shoulders he would be sent back to Casterly Rock with Father to learn how to rule, to wed a suitable woman and whelp children that he could actually claim as his, even though he wanted none of it.

He wanted to stay here, he wanted to be the Lord Commander of the Queensguard. He wanted to be there for his daughter, to be a father to one of his children at last even if he could never say it out loud. He wanted to see Myrcella rule, make a better world because he was certain that she could and he wanted to help her do it, he wanted to keep her safe, he wanted to be her Father.

And he wanted Cersei, he wanted to come to her at night and slip into her bed. He wanted to hold her against his and kiss her deep, kiss her teats and her belly and between her legs and taste that sweetness that was just for him, he wanted to slide inside her and plant another babe deep within her and fuck anyone who told him that he couldn't. He wanted. He wanted. He wanted.

And he could have none of it.

Least of all Cersei, she was to be sent off before him. The arrangements had already been made with Paxter Redwyne, after the Queen was wed Cersei would go south to the Arbour where she would marry Horror. The thought of that little boy having his Cersei filled him with a blinding rage, the boy wasn't here and that was lucky for him, if he was nothing would have stopped Jaime from killing him.

Cersei seemed no more happy about it than him, she refused to speak of the match at all when Myrcella made her intentions known that Jaime knew his sister well enough to see when she was furious even when she did not speak the words allowed. She would pace back and forth and play with her fingers, her entire body shaking with barely supressed rage. A lioness put in a cage and no one heard or cared when she roared.

His attention was drawn back to the wedding when he heard the High Septon droning on and one, it came to the matter of swapping cloaks and he knew that this was going to be a matter of controversy. To be fair to him, though he didn't like the boy, Prince Trystane spun and dropped to his knees with out hesitation as Myrcella came forward to unclip the cloak of House Martell and replace it with the one of House Baratheon.

Jaime couldn't say that he would have done it with so much grace, he imagined most men would be too humiliated to be seen to be under their wife's protection but if Prince Trystane heard the mutters or giggles then he paid them no mind. His elder sister started the applause with her uncle following after her and all of the Dornish guests added to the noise, Lord Tywin and Cersei followed them and soon the entire sept was clapping.

The walked down the steps and through the alley hand in hand, Lord Tywin following with Arianne Martell arm in arm with Oberyn and Cersei following them. Jaime followed them out towards the end and just caught sight of the Queen and the Prince Consort riding their horses through the streets, throwing silver stags and bright flowers down at the common folk.

There were cheers here and there for them but Jaime paid them no mind, he had heard about the bread riot from Cersei and Varys but the people were sated enough now that the Tyrells were still sending food into the city. Speaking of them, for every cry there was for Queen Myrcella, there were three for Lady Margaery. The girl wasn't in sight, she was in a litter with her cousins and her mother and her grandmother but Jaime knew it would cause a problem soon enough.

Oh, she had been gracious enough when Myrcella had summoned her and her cousins back to the capital, she had dropped to her knees and kissed Myrcella's hand and told her what an honour it would be to serve as one of her ladies but the girl was going to be the queen and it had all been stolen away from her. Jaime would have to ensure that she was watched most carefully, being the Queen might be beyond her reach but taking vengeance on the girl who had stolen it away from her was certainly not.

They soon came to the Red Keep itself and Trystane helped Myrcella down, the Queen giggled as he kissed her cheeks and her nose and her lips and for the first time in a long time Jaime saw how young she was, how very, very young. She was a woman, and a queen in her own right, but only barely. She had strength but how long could it last?

He sighed and dismounted and handed his horse over to the stable boy, he supposed in the end it didn't matter. He couldn't and wouldn't be here for her and she would need to stand her on her own. He walked into the great hall where the wedding feast was to be held and he took his place on the dais, he was still the Lord Commander for today and that meant he needed to stand behind the Queen's chair, ready to keep her safe.

He hadn't been here for Joff's feast but he heard enough about it, seventy-seven courses and jousting dwarves and murder. This one was tamer, there had been no breakfast to start with and only fourteen courses and there was no competition for a gilded lute but there were singers. The courses came and went and none of it looked appetising and Jaime paid no mind to any of it.

The singers sung and the pipers piped and soon the dancing came, Myrcella and Trystane lead the dancing and soon they swapped around. The Prince Consort danced with her sister and his goodmother, though neither Cersei nor he looked pleased at the arrangement. Myrcella danced with Prince Oberyn and Lord Tywin and Lord Mace as Trystane danced with Ellaria Sand, Margaery Tyrell and all her cousins.

As Myrcella was dancing with Ser Loras, Jaime found himself distracted by another maid. He stepped down from the dais and walked down to the lower table and placed his only hand on her shoulder, the bluest blue eyes looked up at him from a face that should count those eyes as a blessing, they were the only pretty thing about her after all. "Hello wench."

"My name is Brienne." She sounded annoyed and he was glad of that, she had been spending most of her time in a tower cell after all. Ser Loras had eventually vouched for her innocence and release but she had made no effort to leave King's Landing, where could she go? Catelyn Stark was dead, Arya Stark, the real one at any rate, was more than likely dead and Sansa Stark was gone, if she wasn't dead she would try and disappear when no one could find her.

Her quest had been a failure, to say the least. She could go home of course, back to Tarth but she seemed to have no intentions of going yet. Not that he supposed it mattered to him what she did, he didn't care. "Are you enjoying the feast?" He asked as he glanced down at the dish that was placed in front of her, it looked Dornish. Eggs and onions and peppers all chopped up together with a few fine red spices sprinkled through out.

"I do not have much of a stomach for Dornish fare, I am afraid." Brienne closed her mouth as she finished speaking as she glanced down out on to the dance floor for a moment, Jaime followed her gaze and they both watched as Myrcella span around with her husband. "Your-The queen looks very beautiful, will you pass on my congratulations and well wishes to her?"

"You'll be expected to do it yourself." Jaime muttered as he stared at his daughter for a moment before he turned back to look at Brienne. "Should I take that to mean that you have finally decided to leave King's Landing?"

Brienne nodded, for half a heartbeat Jaime was terrified that she was going to cry but the moment passed and her wet eyes turned dry as she cleared her throat. "It would seem I have no other option, Lady Arya and Lady Sansa are both gone and I have not the first idea where to begin to look for them, an imposter has been sent North to steal away their rights and even if I could find them, I can not send them to their mother. She's dead, the only choice left to me is to return to Tarth."

The wench may not have shed any tears but she did look miserable, he wanted to reach out and tell her that maybe all was not lost. She could set out for them, find them, they had to be somewhere, at least Sansa did. She could find her and get her somewhere safe, swear herself to her service but try as he might the words would not come. He would be sending her on a fool's errand.

It was a shame, if she did decide to go back to Tarth and hang up her sword. She still needed some work, but she wasn't bad with a blade. She wasn't bad at all in point of fact. A moment of madness grasped him as he glanced between Brienne and Myrcella and the half formed mad thought took more shape in his mind, Ser Addam would take his place but they would need to find a new replacement for Ser Boros...

Brienne wasn't a knight, nor could she ever be a knight but Joffery had dealt away with that little perquisite when he had named the Hound to the Kingsguard, it would cause scandal and Myrcella might not approve but it was an idea, at the very least. "Would you not?" When he spoke, Brienne looked at him. "Would you not leave the capital, not for a while at least? For a moon or so, I think I have something that you can do."

"What?"

"Just leave it to me Wench." Jaime grinned as Brienne the Beauty frowned at him, he spun and walked back to the dais, feeling better than he had done in weeks. "Just leave it to me."

End of Chapter Five

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 **Welp, another chapter and the wedding is done and dusted.**

 **Next chapter, we are going as far south as south goes. Places your bets whose P.O.V it will be told from.**

 **With much love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	7. Chapter 6

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Six

His swollen fingers stretched out and wrapped around the smooth jade of the dragon game piece, plucking it up from the game board and twisting it in his hand. Doran was lost in thought as he stared down at it for a few moments, the game was complex and often times more trouble than it was worth but in the end, would it all prove to be worth it?

He had to hope so, otherwise all this waiting would be for nothing. He set the game piece back down on the board and picked up the letter that Oberyn had sent him and scanned the words once again, the ceremony in the Sept of Baelor had been beautiful by all accounts as had the new queen as well. Trystane had done well as well, bending the knees and allowing his wife to take him under her protection. He had done well, Doran didn't think he had ever been this proud of his youngest child.

His son, his baby boy, the husband of a Queen. Prince Consort of all Seven Kingdoms and all the lords and ladies would have to bow to him, he could not deny that after what had been done to Elia and her babies that the small revenge tasted all the sweeter and it was only to be the first, a small morsel to wet his appetite before the feast that would be set before him later.

He had much and more to consider before then, many things that had to be weighed against one another before he decided to make a move. Doran had promised his mother when he had been a child that he would always put those he ruled over first before anything else whenever he contemplated making a move. It would always be the innocent who suffered the most when the highborn made a mistake. They would be the ones who would bleed and die in their thousands if he made even a single mistake and thus he would not make any.

He could not. He wanted vengeance just as much as Oberyn ever did but he had duties, things that meant just as much to him if not more than his family. He was the Prince, he was Dorne. And there were things that had to be put first, no matter how much it hurt him. And it hurt him more than anything, but he had ever been mindful of his duty, even when it had meant sending one of his own children away.

The thought of Quentyn was enough to rob away all the sense of accomplishment as he thought about his middle child, safely with Lord Yronwood for the moment. Much and more had been planned for Quentyn but now that seemed to be slipping away like the sands through an hourglass as much and more changed in front of his eyes, as things came to pass that he could never even begin to imagine.

In truth, it was less of choosing between two queens and choosing between both of his sons, it was choosing which one to back. What would be better for Dorne in the long run, what would be better for his family? His decision would disappoint someone, he was sure enough of that. Quentyn would have to be brought back to Sunspear and something else done with him, a new match would have to be made for him, one of the Fowler twins might well suffice, Lord Fowler had always been unhappy that he had sent Quentyn to ward with Yronwood instead of with him. A marriage might yet sooth that wound.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he did not hear Maester Caleotte approaching, the fat man's slippers carrying him towards Doran like a piece of parchment blown on the wind. He scurried past Hotah and bent his head. "My prince, the Lady Obara and the Lady Nym are both without. They beg you for a moment of your time."

He doubted that a very great deal, if there was one thing that Doran was sure about when it came to his nieces it was that none of them were the begging sort. Still, when all things were considered this might be a blessing in disguise. He gave his leave for Caleotte to send them in with a nod, the maester scurrying away to see them in.

Obara was dressed in a man's tunic, a pair of silk trousers and a silk scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck to stop the sand from blowing into her mouth as she rode. Her eyes, dark as jet, were narrowed and her lips were pressed into a firm, thin line. She had seen fit to not carry any weapons in his presence, she had even chosen to put aside her whip and her shield.

Nymeria couldn't be more different from her sister if she tried to be, slim and elegant and graceful where Obara was broad and course and rough, she was grabed in yellow silk with a golden snake encircling one arm while a jade one covered the other, her black hair was bound up tightly in a braid. Like her sister, she carried no weapons that his eyes could see but with Nymeria that meant little and less. Hotah had once told him that she could hide up to a dozen daggers on her person and Doran had never doubted Hotah in his life, he never would either.

Obara dropped to a single kneel while Nymeria fell into an elegant curtsey. "Uncle, how wonderful it is to see you. And looking so well." Nymeria's words were always a poisoned covered sweetness, every word as sharp as one of the blades she so loved. She straightened up and smiled. "I hope you do not mind us dropping in on you unannounced as we did, we simply missed the sight of your sweet face."

"Quite." Doran spoke as Caeleotte gilded out of his chamber while Hotah stared at both of the Sand Snakes, clearly ready to strike at even the slightest movement that he deemed threatening. Not that Doran truly believed that his nieces would dare to strike at him, despite their differences, but he had never doubted Hotah's instincts either. "And while it's always a joy to see the both of you, I am sure the absence of me can not be the only reason you are both here. Were you not a guest of Lord Fowler's Nym? And Obara, last I heard of you Lord Uller was feasting you. Both longs rides, simply to come and see me?"

"Ah, we can not fool our clever uncle Obara, I told you so did I not?" Nymeria asked her sister who had strode over to the table near the bed, picked up a pitcher of wine to fill a cup and began to bite into one of his flatbreads, taking a seat at the foot of the bed as she did so. "The truth then, we our concerned about our Father. Lord Tywin took him and Ellaria and hundreds of other lords and ladies of Dorne as...guests, and your response is to send them the little lioness, sweetest Trystane and dearest Arianne. We were not expecting Myrcella to return, of course. Nor, sadly, Trystane as he is her consort now. But where is our Father? Where is Arianne, the future of Dorne itself?"

"Last time I checked, they were both in King's Landing." His words brought a laugh from Obara while they caused Nymeria to frown, her own eyes of onyx narrowing slightly in annoyance. "They are both, as it happens. Your Father means to remain in King's Landing, he has a seat on the Small Council as you'll recall. Arianne, on the other hand, I mean to summon back to Dorne before the moon turns."

That seemed to both please them and not please them in equal measure, obviously they were as happy as he was to know that Arianne would be out of that Lion's den of a city but the thought of their Father staying there could not have been a happy one. In truth, it was not so much a happy thought for him either. There was no one else that Doran trusted more in this world.

But his Brother had a temper, and his taking the seat to serve Dorne had not been the only reason that he had done so. Doran remembered the way he had raged and screamed and cried after he had learn what had happened to Elia and her babes, it was all that Doran had felt but had kept buried for so very long. He wanted justice, just as badly as Oberyn had.

Even considering it, the choice he had in front of him, felt like he was spitting on them. Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon. Tywin Lannister had given the order, and send his beasts to murder the children, to rape Elia and kill her. And he had wed his youngest to one of them, he was never blind to the benefits of a decision. Having the Lannister Princess as a hostage would be more than useful in the wars to come.

But that was before he had come to known the girl, Myrcella was sweet and witty, clever and brave and kind. She was born to be a Queen, and Trystane grew fond of her over the time that she had been his guest. Doran had seen the look in his eyes that his youngest saved only for her, he had fallen in love with her. It was like something out of a song.

Doran had fallen in love with someone he probably should not have, if he closed his eyes he could still hear the sounds of the bells, felt the wonder in his heart when he saw the bears dancing down the steps and the smells of the Winter Cakes baking...and feeling his breath being ripped out of his lungs when he saw Mellario for the first time, her amber eyes widening when she saw him and her cheeks flushing red.

She had been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life, he thought that every single moment that he had looked at her. Even the day when she finally left him for good, on the docks of Planky Town as the sky was grey and the waves were cruel and she stared at him with no hint of love, of fondness that made her eyes almost look like they belonged to a stranger's.

Doran cleared his throat loudly, tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes and was thankful for the pain in his legs for the first time in his life for distracting him from the other sort of pain. "At any rate, worry not. You will both be seeing your Father before too long, I mean to send the both of you to King's Landing, and Tyene as well in point of fact."

Neither of them had been expecting they, going by the look the both of them clearly shared. Obara finished off her cup of wine after a moment and placed it on the table before standing up from the bed and crossing her arms in front of her chest as she strode across the room before coming to a stop in front of him. "Why?"

"Because I am your Prince and I command you to do so, you will be escorted by a group of three hundred spears to see you safely there...and to ensure the continued safety of the capital." Obara chuckled and Nymeria smiled and for a moment, Doran had the feeling he had already made a terrible mistake but he had already made his choice and he meant to commit to it. "Neither of you will do anything you are not told too, you are to be Myrcella's guests and I command you to do nothing until I give you more instructions."

Obara hummed and Nymeria merely bent her head. "Of course Uncle, we are ever your humble servants. Might we return to Sunspear to begin our preparations for the journey North?"

"You may go, but you will return here with your sister before you do. I may have more instructions for you then." Obara nodded and turned to stomp out of the room, her steps angry even when Obara wasn't. Nymeria fell into another curtsey again and followed her sister out. Once his nieces were gone, Doran was left alone with naught but Hotah. Standing as silent as a statue, ever obeying and ever impartial.

"Captain, might you pour me a cup of wine? I fear I have a headache." And he was, but said pain was nothing compared to the pain in his joints and hands and feet and fingers and toes. In truth, all he wanted at that moment was a cup of milk of the poppy, but he had to keep his wits about him even when it was just his most faithful friend, if he could truly call the captain that.

Areo poured him the wine and passed it too him dutifully before returning to his spot beside the door, picking up his great long axe which he called his ash and iron wife. Doran finished half the cup off in three long gulps before he placed it down on the table in front of him and examined the pieces in front of him for a moment, his thoughts attacking him once again.

After another few moments, he stretched out with a hand and pushed the piece of the Dragon over with a sigh.

It seems that he had made his choice.

End of Chapter Six.

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 **Another chapter done all, and I have to admit that I love writing for Doran so much. He's an amazing character in the books and I loved it when they announced that Alexander was playing him in the show...though the less said about how he was actually portrayed, and his final fate, the better.**

 **Anywho, Doran has made his decision about who to support and it was a hard decision for me to make as well. One of the things I think that people overlook about Doran is that, while he does want vengeance for Elia and her children, he does want the power and influence of being Westeros equivalent of the First Family restored as well. After all, if he just wanted Vengeance then he could have sworn Dorne to Stannis or Renly, neither of who had anything to do with their deaths.**

 **Marrying Arianne to Viserys, and later Quentyn to Dany, was away to get her on their side and the dragons, but it meant that one of his children would be sitting next to the King. Doran is not just doing this for revenge. In this story though...one of his children is already sitting next to a ruling monarch, and that is a heavy factor in his decisions as well.**

 **That put aside for the moment, I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter. There will be two more chapters before we get back into Myrcella's P.O.V, maybe three if I decide to have another chapter come before it. As to who those P.O.V.s will be? Well, I'll give one hint. They are connected to Cersei in one way, and Myrcella in another but none of them are Lannisters.**

 **Please leave a review, a follow and a favourite if you enjoyed.**

 **With much love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	8. Chapter 7

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Seven

"Joffery of the House Baratheon is dead, as is his younger brother. Tommen of the House Baretheon." There was no joy in Ser Barristan's voice as he spoke of the deaths of the young usurper and his heir, Daenerys supposed that it was only natural after all. He had seen both of them born and both of them grew, even if the young usurper had shamed him when he had removed him from the Kingsguard. And the boy Tommen had been innocent of anything.

"Myrcella Baratheon now sits on the Iron Throne, ruling as Queen. The youngest child and second son of Prince Doran Martell of Dorne, Prince Trystane Martell, sits at her side as her Prince Consort." That it self was as confusing as it was disheartening, after what had happened to Prince Doran's sister Dany couldn't understand why he would side with the lions and the stags, why he would betroth his son to one of them? Did family, did the injustice that was done to his sister, mean so very little to him?

And now a young girl sat on the Iron Throne, her Father's throne, the throne that was stolen from her family. The throne and the crown that the desire for had driven her brother mad. Viserys had been kind to her once, she could remember that if she truly tried hard enough. She remembered a time when they had been hiding in one of the Free Cities, Braavos or Lys or Myr, she couldn't remember which now, it had been so very long ago and she had been so young. It had been storming and they had taken shelter in an ally, she was cold and hungry and wet and so very scared.

The ground had turned to mud and Vis had picked her up and placed her in his lap and told her that a princess should never have to sit in the mud. She had cuddled close to his chest and had managed to fall asleep, in the morning Viserys sold their mother's crown, she still remembered the look on his face after he had done that like he was about to break down sobbing, for far less coin that it was truly worth but enough so they could find food and a place to stay if only for a few nights.

But that had been one of the last times she had ever seen her true brother, after the crown had been sold the cruelty had started to begin. When she spoken without thought, telling him of a childish fancy about how lovely it would be to work on a boat and to catch fish and to feel the spray of the sea on your face her brother had slapped her, pinched her and told her that she was a princess and not a smelly fisherman. She had learned to not speak of things that she might rather be after that.

As her brother grew older, his cruelty had grown with him. The pinches became harsher, his words became crueller and she bore the brunt of them more and more often every single day. When they were taken in by Magister Illyrio in Pentos she had foolish thought that perhaps Viserys might become kinder to her, that he might think about letting go of the crown and letting them stay in Pentos.

It wasn't Braavos and it wasn't the house with the Red Door, but Pentos was warm and Illyrio's manse was close to the sea and she went to bed every single night with a full belly. It was more than enough for her, but it was never enough for Viserys and not for Magister Illyrio as well, he had not taken them in out of the kindness of his heart after all. Viserys wanted his crown more than ever before, encouraged by having what he saw a true ally at his back. Illyrio smiled and nodded and said pretty words, telling her brother what he had wanted to hear and Daenerys had been too terrified to say anything.

And then one day, she had been sold to a Dothraki Khal so that her brother might be gifted an army, the thought of her sun and stars still brought her pain but she wasn't sure if it was the pain of grief or the pain of something else entirely. She couldn't be sure, and she did her best not to think about it. If she looked back then she was lost.

And now Viserys was dead, gifted the golden crown that he had wanted more than anything, her sun and stars was dead and the son she should have had, the stallion that would mount the world, her Rhaego, was dead as well. And she was left alone, and Viserys crown passed down to her. Whatever else he was, Viserys was the rightful king and Dany had to get it back, otherwise it was all for nothing.

While the thought of another Usurper on her throne did irk her, at the same time it might be for the best. The Seven Kingdoms had never had a Queen who reigned in her own right before Myrcella Baratheon, if her people got used to it then they might find it less hard to follow her when she came to claimed her Father's throne. On the other hand, if they did get used to following her, they might find it more difficult to give her up.

Daenerys sighed as she turned away from the balcony and walked back into her chambers, turning to look at her dear old knight. "Tell me of this Myrcella, Ser Barristan. You must have been present for every single day of her life, how do you think she will rule the Seven Kingdoms? Will she be able to win the hearts of the nobles and the common folk?"

Ser Barristan looked conflicted on how he should answer for a moment before he finally did speak. "Myrcella...She was ever a sweet girl your Grace, kind and well meaning. But she was brave as well, Joffery was strong willed but cruel and spoiled, Tommen kind but meek, Myrcella is strong and kind, and a clever girl despite her age. Yes, I can see her winning the love of the smallfolk and the nobles."

"However your Grace, do not despair. There are many in the Seven Kingdoms who still hold the Dragon as the true rulers of the Seven Kingdoms and the entire realm is bleeding due to the War that the Lannisters and the Starks started. When you sail across the sea, offer the people something better, the smallfolk will rally to your banner and cry that the Prince's sister has come home at last, some of the noble houses might be reluctant, but some will come to your aid. And more will follow when they see your dragons."

Perhaps it would be as her Lord Commander said it would, but somehow she doubted that it would be that easy. Who know how long it would take her to be able to fix Slaver's Bay? How many years would the little lioness have to bind the wounds of the Seven Kingdoms, to win their love and their loyalty while Dany tried to build something out of the blood and the ashes?

Were it not for the fact that she was the one who had reduced Meereen and Astapor to blood and ashes, then she might simply have found some boats and sailed across the Narrow Sea and take her throne now. She had over eight thousand Unsullied stiffened even more by over two thousand sellswords, more than her ancestor had when he had landed in the Crownlands on the sight of what would be King's Landing. And she had three Dragons too.

No, Westeros was her future but she had a responsibility to the people of Slaver's Bay and she would not abandon them, she could not. She would see her olive trees bare fruit. Daenerys let out a sigh before walking over to Ser Barristan and holding out her arm for him to take. "Let us not dwell on things that could be years in the future, I must hold court now."

Barristan the Bold nodded and took her arm, but did not take a step. Instead, he stared at her like he wanted to ask her something but could not seem to find the words, or the courage. "What is it?"

The old knight sighed. "Your Grace, I pray you do not think me impertinent. However, I must ask you something. When we do set sail for home and we take back your Throne, and please do not doubt for a second that I will do all that I can to make sure you are placed on the throne, I would ask for mercy for the girl Myrcella. She is a sweet child, and young and I do not doubt for a moment that she never thought she would find herself where she is now. I'd ask that you spare her life."

It was a gallant gesture, one worthy of a true knight and it couldn't help but make Dany smile. "If when we land, she surrenders her crown, the capital and the throne to me. Then yes, I promise you I will spare her life and find her a worthy match. I don't want to hurt her, but if she chooses to fight me then I must fight as well. Even if she chooses for that to be to the bitter end."

"I do not ask you not to fight your Grace, I do not ask you to not do what you have too. Simply to remember that...Mercy can be what makes the difference between a bad king and a good one." The old knight let out another sigh, this one even heavier than the last. "Your Grace, might I tell you something? Something that you are most likely not wanting to hear?"

Dany blinked, was silent for a moment, before she nodded. "The Battle of the Trident was a disaster, Your brother slain, many of our forces dead or fled, including almost all of the ten thousand spears that Dorne had sent, Prince Lewyn who had been my brother in the Kingsguard among them. I was brought in front of Robert, I fully expected to lose my head that day. To be sure, many were calling for it."

"But Robert...He didn't do that, he had his faults, he didn't have the...temperament, for a king. Some would say. He enjoyed what being a King brought him, but the responsibilities were often too much for him. He would leave it to his councillors to sort out, I believe he attended around half a dozen Small Council meetings all through out his reign."

"But for all those faults, what Robert did not lack was mercy. He helped me to my feet, said my own crime was being loyal, and pardoned me. When a man fell to his feet in front of Robert, he helped them up. He made friends out of enemies, it was a talent that many kings before him could have done with learning. If I might be as bold as my name suggests, it is a talent you should learn as well."

Hearing anything kind said about the Usurper was enough to turn her stomach, but Dany could not deny that she saw the wisdom in his words. A Queen had to be merciful, but not too much surely? A Queen had to be loved, but feared as well. She said nothing to Barristan's words, she simply nodded to let him know that she had heard him.

Ser Barristan returned the nod and proceeded to lead her out of her apartments and down into the greet hall where her subjects were waiting for her. Missandei was standing near her small couch and a bowl of melon and hard boiled eggs spiced with pepper was waiting for her. She gave her little scribble a smile of gratitude and made herself as comfortable as she could.

It was time to be a Queen. She spoke so the Seneschal could hear her. "Send the first one in."

End of Chapter Seven.

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 **Another chapter done, I've got to admit I am actually not quite sure about how I write Dany but I'll leave it up to you to decide that for yourself. Same with Barristan, if not more so cause he's not actually a character I think about all that much.**

 **Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and you would please consider leaving a follow, a favourite and a review. They mean so much to know people are enjoying it and, as always, constructive criticism is always more than welcome.**

 **Next chapter we are going back to Westeros, see you then!**

 **With much love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	9. Chapter 8

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Eight

The climb up the Mountains of the Moon had taken almost an entire day and the sun was just about to set when they finally reached the Eyrie. Sansa was glad of that as she did not think she would have the strength to face that sort of climb in the middle of the night. It had been more than terrifying in the full rich light of the day. Her aunt, her two ladies, her maid and Sansa were lifted up to the castle in a large basket attached to a winch while Lord Petyr and Lord Nestor Royce of the Gates of the Moon would use the natural handholds to climb the rest of the way.

Lady Lysa was the first to be helped out of the basket, followed her two ladies, then her maid and then Sansa. For a moment she wonder why she had been helped out last when by all rights of propriety it should have been her Aunt's maid who was helped out last but then Sansa remembered. Not only was she a stranger to these people, she was also not their Lady's niece. She was simply just Lord Petyr's natural born daughter, his bastard. Entitled to nothing at all due to nothing more than being born on the wrong side of the sheets.

It was an odd sensation, something that she would never have thought would occur to her and it made her thoughts go to Jon. She hadn't thought of her bastard brother in so very long a time and the last time that she had done so they had not been thoughts that she would have liked to dwell on. She and Jon had never been close, she had been closer to her Mother as she had been growing; always seeing her as the most perfect of ladies, highborn and beautiful. But her Mother had never liked Jon, she had always been afraid that he would try and steal what was Robb and the rest of theirs by right and Sansa had maybe, if only just a little bit, had always believed her. Her lady Mother could do no wrong, not in her eyes and thus if she thought that Jon could not be trusted then the simply truth could only be that Jon could not be trusted.

But Jon was also all that she had left now, Robb had been betrayed and murdered in the Twins and so had their mother as well, she still had nightmares from what she heard had been done to them. Some nights she was almost certain that she could hear her mother calling out for her to come to her, the sound of her sorrow thick in her voice.

Other nights she had dreams about Robb instead and those were the worst of them, he would chase her in a grove of wild weirwood trees with bark as white as dead fleash and red tears running down from their eyes as they watched her run through their branches, chased by the monster that the monsters had made of her brother. He would always catch her in the end and the last thing she would see before she woke screaming would be Grey Wind's unseeing eyes looking down at her.

If she ever returned to the North then she would have to go to Jon, it would be so very sweet to see him again. Jon was their father's son, he was her brother. He would keep her safe.

But hadn't she thought that about Joffery, not so very long ago? That he was her perfect prince and that she would be so happy with him and he would be the one to keep her safe and happy and warm? And he had turned out to be a monster who had hurt her, who had murdered her Father. She thought that the Tyrells would be her refugee, would be the ones to get her away and to a safe place where she would be away from all those who would hurt her but as soon as she was married to Tyrion, she had been abanonded by all of them.

And she didn't trust Lord Petyr, he had gotten her out of King's Landing and away from the Lannisters and away from a marriage that she did not want at all but he had not done it for her, like everyone else who had been kind to her since she had left Winterfell, he wanted something from her. Her claim to her Lord Father's seat, most likely. But he couldn't marry her, he was married to Aunt Lysa now and he was the Lord Protector of the Vale now, and he was too old besides.

An old man in soft white robes with the chain of a maester around his neck appeared in the room just as Lord Petyr and Lord Nestor had finished their climb. The maester glanced over all of them for a moment before he set his attention on Sansa's aunt. "News from King's Landing, my Lady. It arrived after you had departed and I was not sure where to send the bird, we have no ravens trained to send messages to the Fingers."

Her Aunt let out a long suffering sigh and removed her long fur cloak and almost tossed it into the face of her maid and then set to removing her gloves. "It has been a long and cold climb Maester Colemon, I wish to have naught but a cup mulled wine and to have something to fill my belly and to see my son and naught more for the night, do you understand?"

The maester frowned and let out a hesitant nod. "I-Of course My Lady, fires have been built in all of the halls and your chambers, Lord Nestor sent up word of your comming the night before and so the cooks have roasted a venison and have mulled some wine but I am afraid that Lord Robert is sleeping, he had a turn when he was told that you would not be making the climb in the morning."

The news of her son had seem to turn something in Lady Lysa, she threw her gloves down to the ground and hurried out of the room, her ladies hurried after her and her maid reached down to pick up her gloves before following them out of the room as well. Sansa was about to follow them but then realised that she wasn't sure if she should, she wasn't sure what was acceptable with her new status. She was held in higher regard when she had been the hostage daughter of an excuted traitor.

Lord Petyr walked forward then and placed his hand on the shoulder of the maester, his mint green eyes shinned with sympathy and friendship and Sansa wondered if he had learned how to do that. "My new wife has a gentle heart Masester, and she loves her son well. The thought of him suffering is like a dagger to her heart, forgive her for her outburst. Tell me, what news has arrived? I am the Lord Protector of the Vale now, I should know it at any rate."

"Yes my Lord, a day after Lady Lysa left, a raven from King's Landing brought news. Foul news befitting the dark wings it was born on, King Joffery is dead. Murdered at his wedding feast by vile poison slipped into his cup by his uncle, Lord Tyrion of the House Lannister." Sansa brought her hand up to her mouth in order to cover it and then turned away, their was no greif for Joffery in her but she knew that she had to at least seem shocked or sadden, she was a maid who knew nothing of what Joffery had really been.

She did not see Petyr's face, but she knew that if she turned around to look then she would see a perfect mask of sorrow, shock and disguist on those sharp features. "Wicked, utterly wicked that such a thing could have happened! And at his wedding as well, poor Lady Margaery must be so very distraught. Only the The Imp could have been capable of something so cruel, the trial will do well to find him gulity as soon as possible."

 _You got the poison_ for some queer reason she wanted to yell, at the top of her lungs though her mouth stayed firmly shut _You got the poison and Margaery's grandmother was the one who put it in his cup._

"Alas, sad as it is we must move on. We have a new king now and Mace Tyrell will still insist on the marriage, we must be sure to send our condelences and ensure Lord Tywin that he still has the complere and utter support of the Vale in ensureing that King Tommen remains on the Throne, I think we shall-"

"My Lord, I beg your pardon but I was not finished. There is more news, Prince Tommon is dead as well, he chocked on the crust of his pigon pie." At that, Sansa spun around and the shock she felt deep inside her was clearly mirrored on Lord Petyr's face, and this time it was not a mask.

Tommen was dead? How? She suddenly found herself remebering the little boy with his golden curls and his green eyes and the way he had spoken of wanting a kitten to play with and his Mother never spending time with him anymore because she was too busy being the regent and the way he had cried when his sister had left him on the docks to go to Dorne to be wed to one of the sons of Prince Doran of House Martell. Had he been older, then she would not have minded being married to Tommen.

"The Imp is dead as well my Lord, the Queen was thrown into a fit of madness at the death of both her sons and she drew a dagger and slew the imp where he stood, Queen Cersei has been confined to the Red Keep and Lord Tywin has sent word to Dorne that Princess Myrcella, I beg pardon, Queen Myrcella might return to King's Landing so she can take her place on the Iron Throne."

Tyrion was dead. Tyrion was dead. She was free to marry again, if she wished too or if she didn't which wouldn't matter to anyone who truly wanted her hand but Tyrion was dead. He had been kind to her, he had been gentle as well in his way, the ugliest of the lions has the best of hearts and he had not touched her at all, he had simply gone back to his whores. She shed a single tear for her husband and quickly brushed it away, no more tears. Never again.

Lord Petyr was silent, standing there and just listening to everything the maester told him before he nodded and cleared his throat. "Well, today has been a day for shocks it seems. Lord Nestor, I will ask one of these serving men to escort you to your rooms and to bring you some food, I will beg your pardon but I would like to be alone to do some thinking. Alyane, sweetling, come with me to my Solar. Maester, please go to the kitchens have them send bread, wine and cheese to us."

The Maester nodded and scurried out with Lord Nestor leaving shortly after, Sansa followed Lord Peter out of the winch room and through the long pale corridors of the Eyrie until they arrived at his solar. It did not seem anything like Lord Petyr would like, sky blue banners and tapestries depecting events from the ancient history of the Vale but then Sansa remebered that this had most likely been Jon Arryn's solar and it only now belonged to Lord Petyr.

A fire was burning in the heath and Lord Petyr sat down in a chair in front of it and stared at the flames for a long few moments before he decided to speak. "Well, this has certainly spat in the pudding somewhat. All our careful plans we lay out, and one little brat decides to chock on some pastry and we are left with nothing, I shall have to start all over again. All the pieces on the board have changed now."

"On the other hand, having a Queen sitting on the Iron Throne might be all for the better in the end. It would make several things easier, though who can say if will turn out that way. We shall simply have to do what we can with what we have." Sansa had no idea what to say, she got the feeling that Lord Petyr was simply speaking to himself than he was to her.

Two serving men came into the room, one with a flagon of wine another with a platter of bread and cheese as well as some red grapes. Lord Petyr dismissed them with a wave of his hand and walked over to his desk to pour himself a cup. "Help yourself sweetling, it was a very long climb to say the very least."

Sansa stood up and poured a cup of wine and sat down and took a sip of it, ginger and cinnamon burst along her tongue and a warmth filled her chest as she contemplated what she was going to say next. "My Lord, if Myrcella is the Queen now. That means that Margaery cannot be queen, does that mean the Tyrells will turn against the Lannisters?"

She hoped so, deep inside of her she hoped so. She hoped they all killed one another, expect maybe not Ser Garlan and his wife, they had both been kind to her when they did not need to be.

"Oh, Lord Tywin will be desperate to keep them as allies, I would not be surprised if Myrcella's Dornish boy suddenly came down with a case of knife in the neck, The Lannisters need the Tyrells more than the Martells. Mace wanted his daughter to be Queen, but if in the end he gets a grandson for a King then he will be more than happy enough with that."

"But who can say how these things will land at the end of the day, pieces move in ways we don't expect them too, be sure to remebere that Sansa as you go forward, as you play the Game. Or you will be caught unawares, I had not anticpated this possiblity and I was unsettled. But, going forward we shall simply have to adapt, I will need to send a raven to King's Landing as soon as possible and swear my loyalty to the Queen, I might even have to return to the City, oh that would be a problem."

He waved his hand and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, nevermind. Go to bed sweetling, I shall deal with all of this Tommorow. Plotting can be so very tiresome, even more so after climbing a mountain." Taking the unspoken dismissal, Sansa stood up and left the solar. A manservent who was waiting for her outside told her that he had been informed by Lady Lysa that he was to show her to her room.

It was a smaller room that she had ever slept in but the bed was comfortable and the room itself was warm enough, she stared up at the ceiling as she was alone in the dark with naught but her thoughts. And her memories.

They were what followed her into the darkness of her dreams.

End of Chapter Eight.

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 **Another chapter done and dusted.**

 **So, obviously more has happened then just what the letter says but when it arrived Lysa was travling to the fingers and then the wedding party was traviling back so they Eyrie are a little out of the loop but as we go through the story, that will become less and less true as they get involved with the main plot.  
**

 **I am never sure with how I write Sansa and I don't think I have ever actually writtten Littlefinger before, so I hope they both at least sound as though I got them both in character.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please review, follow and favourite if so.**

 **With much love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	10. Chapter 9

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Nine

The cakes were as small as they were sweet and she was tempted to reach out and take another one but Margaery had learned to be a lady when she was three years old and she know it was not courteous for a lady to take more than she should and it was never done for a lady to appear greedy, even so holding herself back from reaching out and taking another cream cake took a deal of effort.

She and her ladies had been waiting for the Queen to join them for awhile now, the Lannister girl apparently had council meetings all through the they had been told to start without her. Even so, it was well past morning now and yet Queen Myrcella had not given even a single hint as to when she might finally come and join them for the rest of the day.

Margaery supposed she must remember that her ladies were not truly her ladies anymore, they had all been called on to attend Myrcella and thus Margaery was just as much a lady-in-waiting as were the rest of her cousins. Not long ago she would have been a Queen, not long ago she had been a Queen in point of fact and now she stood no higher than some of the other noble ladies who had come to attend the Queen.

Father had not been best pleased with that, losing the pride of having a daughter as a Queen and having a grandson as a king but he had been convinced at the time that he would be able to convince Queen Myrcella to put aside her Dornish prince of a husband in exchange for Willas, Margaery loved her oldest brother more than any words could say but while Willas was a good and gentle man, honorable and loyal and kind, but she got the sense that this was not going to be as easy as her Father expected it to be.

From what little she had seen since she had been serving the Queen, the young girl seemed quite devoted to her Dornish Prince but if she had learned anything about her Father it was that he always got what he wanted and right now what he wanted was to ensure that he had a grandson that would be a king and Margaery knew her Father well enough to know he would stop at nothing to get it.

He got that from Grandmother, Father might have lacked her subtle touch when it came to these matters but he got his endless ambition from her, Margaery couldn't deny that she had it either of course. She had wanted to be Queen, even if just for a moment and never quite as much as either her Father or her Grandmother had wanted her to be.

But then the boy had died, he had been golden, beautiful and content to play the gallant for most of their wedding. She knew what he was of course, spending time with him for anything close to a moment was enough for anyone to see what he was and poor little Sansa had been confirmed all of her worst fears during on of the teas they had to together with her Grandmother.

But Margaery knew what she was capable off and she was fairly certain that she would have been able to keep the king under her thumb but in the end she didn't have to worry about that, her wedding had ended in tears and death. Joffery had been cruel and arrogant and without a doubt she knew that their marriage would have been unpleasant, to say the very least, but even so the way he died had just been so horrible, it was the first man that Margaery had ever seen die and she prayed it would be the last.

He had been tall but he looked so small in his mother's arms as he clawed at his own throat as he tried to take a breath, it had been a horrible death and she hadn't been able to look. She could still feel Grandmother's bony fingers digging into her arm through the sleeve of her gown, whispering into her ear to be brave but in that moment she couldn't, all she could do was cry.

But the tears had been from shock and fear and far from any grief, in truth the tears were in part relief as well. But there had been tears of sorrow for poor little Tommen who had chocked on the pastry of his pie while everyone around him was too busy trying to save his brother. He had been so very sweet, the first day she had meet him on her first day in the capital he had bowed to her and welcomed her to the capital with words that had clearly been rehearsed several times and he looked so proud that he had said them correctly.

It was a shame, if Tommen had been the older brother than a great deal might have been for the better. He had been sweet and gentle and more easy to lead than Joffery would have been, he would have been a better king than his brother and a better husband as well. But it did no good to dwell on what might have happened if things had turned out differently all they could do now was make the best of it.

Her newest duty was to try and convince the young queen to put aside her husband though how her Father expected her to do that she didn't have the faintest idea, Myrcella might have asked for her to come back to the capital to attend her but that was hardly because she desired Margaery's company. It was a token gesture to the rest of her family, to let them knew that the Queen still favored them.

But it was a minuscule gesture considering what she had done, taking both Lord Rowan and Lord Tarly from her Father was a stroke of brilliance she could not deny it even while acknowledging that it was terrible for them. Mathis Rowan and Randyll Tarly were two of her Lord Father's most powerful bannermen and now one of them was entrusted to speak with the Queen's voice in all matters when she was not present and could sit the Iron Throne when she was not present and the other was entrusted with bringing peace back to the realm and fighting the Queen's battles in her name.

Her Lord Father's bannermen and both had been risen to heights greater than him, she had left the city by the time of the small council meeting when that decision had been announced but Garlen had still been with Father and Loras was still a member of the Queensguard even if he was now serving the wrong Queen and both had written to her of his reaction.

Sweet and noble Garlen had spoken of how Father was displeased and perhaps a little irritated that the Queen had chosen to give such honors to his bannermen without considering him for either position where as Loras had informed her that he had never seen Father so enraged before in his entire life, not even when the Red Viper had crippled Willas at the tourney at Oldtown, it had only gotten worse when he had tried to summon them both for a meeting in his apartments in the Red Keep and both men had refused him, citing important duties that the Queen had given them to perform.

When Grandmother had heard that she had simply sighed and shook her head and warned her that if she had a son make sure early on that she taught him how to listen to her for if she did not then she would be cursed with having an oaf for a son just as she had. Grandmother had been quite receptive to the idea of sending her back to the capital however though she did not intend to make the journey herself.

"The truth of the matter my dear little rose is that this is a battle that has already been lost." Her Grandmother had said to her as they had dined on fresh caught red salmon rubbed in garlic and butter and baked in pastry, a rose petal soup sweetened with honey and marzipan butterflies with spun sugar wings. "Your Father won't want to admit that to himself yet but anyone with two good eyes and half a thought in their heads will be able to see it but your Father has always been greedy except now instead of being greedy for custard tarts, he is greedy for a crown instead and this time his greed could destroy all of us."

Lady Olenna had devoured one of the dragonflies and in between her bites she spoke again, Mother had always said that in her old age her Grandmother cared less and less for manners. "So, here is what you are going to do. You will do as your Lord Father bids of you like a good girl and return to the capital with your darling little cousins to serve this new Queen as loyally as you can and try and gain her favor as best as you can, your Father will wish for you to try and get her to put aside her husband for Willas but do not let your ambition overextend your means my dear."

Grandmother had reminded her of that once again as she, Alla, Elinor and Megga were about to set of back to the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, reminding them that the axe was always hanging over their head and now it had just gotten that much lower. Father had however in all of his letters had urged her to convince the Queen to put her husband aside just as Grandmother had predicted.

Either way she didn't have as much access to the Queen as either her Father or her Grandmother had predicted. Queen Myrcella had already a great score of ladies surrendering her most of them from Dorne but a few ladies from the Westerlands and the Crownlands as well. It seemed that Margaery and her cousins were the only ladies from the Reach and the Queen treated them with a polite courtesy as was to be expected but Margaery was far from having her ear.

But while the Queen might have been keeping her at something of a distance that same feeling could not be said to extend to the rest of the capital, when her retinue slowly rode through the River Gate a great cheer went up and what seemed to her like a great horde of people began to shout her name at the very top of their voices and the great cry did not cease until her wheelhouse rolled into the Red Keep and the drawbridge was raised up.

The people had not forgotten her and the food that had been sent in her name and that would be the one advantage that she held it seemed, the Queen was a stranger to them due to being kept inside the walls of the Red Keep when she should have been outside of them winning hearts and then being scurried off to Dorne to bathe in the sun while the city starved.

And now this girl that none of the people of the city knew had been placed above them all on the throne, another lion like the one that had sacked their city, burned down their homes and took everything from them. Margaery knew that she was the Queen in their hearts even if it was to Queen Myrcella's health that they prayed for and the little part of her that was too much like Father and Grandmother could not help but be pleased with that.

The door to the chamber opened then and the Queen walked into the room and Margaery and her cousins rose to greet her. The Queen was ever so slightly younger than her but she was also slightly taller as well, Queen Cersei was quite tall for a woman and Joffery had been tall for his age so she imagined it only made sense for Myrcella to be tall for her age as well.

She was grabbed in a gown of black and gold today, the Queen did seem to flit between her Father's colors to her husband's and to her Mother's with some regularity. Myrcella did not look well in Baratheon colors, her pale skin had been a gift from her Mother and black made her look sickly, almost like she was half a corpse and did not belong in the colors of her Father's house.

"I apologies for keeping my ladies waiting, I am afraid that matters with the Small Council overran." Myrcella spoke as she gestured for them to retake their seats before taking her own seat at the head of their table before picking up a goblet and filling it up from a pitcher of lemon sweet before picking up an apple cake and biting into it, she stared at the little delight for a moment before letting out a disappointed little sigh.

"Is there something wrong your Grace?" Margaery asked as she leaned forward and picked up her own goblet of lemon sweet and took a sip from it, enjoying the tart sweetness on her tongue.

"Oh, it's nothing important. I simply gained quite a licking for Dornish food while I was there and they do love their spices and now I simply find most food that is not Dornish to be quite bland. Oh, the cake itself is lovely just simply now what I like." The Queen finished the cake dutifully and took another drink from her goblet before she rose again.

"I know that you and I have not spent that much time together since you and your cousins have arrived in the city Lady Margaery, something which I very much mean to rectify. In another world we would have been sisters after all, I wonder if you would mind joining me for a short walk? Perhaps through my gardens?"

"Your Grace does me a great honor, I will be delighted to keep you company." Margaery dismissed her cousins and sent them on their way before she followed the Queen out of the room, Ser Addam Marbrand and Ser Arys Oakheart were waiting outside for the Queen and Margaery was quick to congratulate Ser Addam for his appointment to the Queensguard and complimented Ser Arys on how gallant he looked in his white scale armor.

Myrcella's gardens were a product of fine work and Margaery had to admit that it did seem quite a peaceful place to let an afternoon slip away in the hot sun of summer, though now in Autumn it seemed that rain drops were clinging to every petal and stem and the ground underneath their feet had transformed into thick mud by the downpour that had come down last night.

They stopped to allow the Queen time to pick flower, a yellow rose with sharp thorns. The Queen twirled it between her thumb and finger for a moment before bringing it up to her delicate little nose to inhale it's scent. "I don't remember planting any yellow roses by the time I left for Dorne though now it seems as though they are growing in every corner. They are such pretty flowers and they smell so sweet but their thorns are so very sharp, I might make myself bleed if I am not careful."

"A rose only makes one bleed if the one who picks it is not careful your Grace." Margaery spoke with a sweet smile as her eyes narrowed slightly, truly looking at the young girl who she now had to call Queen. She was subtler than her brother had been and it seemed that she would have to be more careful with her. "A gentle touch and you shall be fine."

"Yes, a gentle touch. Of course, it is important to remember that when a rose is picked that it does die not long after and if it makes me bleed is of little concern after that." The Queen dropped the yellow rose and allowed it to sink into the mud as she held Margaery's gaze. "Tell me, my Lady, did you enjoy my wedding feast? My Mother planned most of it, she's quite good when it comes to those matters when she chooses to be. I did have some little input of course, I added some Dornish dishes that I was fond of though I hope they were not too spicy."

"They were lovely your Grace, such exotic tastes and I am sure that the Prince Consort must have enjoyed them." And Prince Trystane might have enjoyed them but a single spoonful of the snake stew had made it feel as though someone had little a fire in her mouth and Megga had spent much of that night crouched over a chamber pot.

"Well, of course he did. Don't we all enjoy a taste of our homes? It was a night that I wanted him to remember and I assure you that he did, and not just because of the food." The Queen laughed at that and Margaery joined with her and as soon as the Queen stopped so did she. "It was I think the happiest night of my life, though I was surprised when on the day of my wedding as we were riding back to keep from the great sept, for every voice that called my name or my husband's another ten was calling for you."

"I was not overly surprised of course, the people love you well considering your family sent them so much food in your name after months and months of them being starved." The Queen took a step closer then and it was perhaps for the first time that Margaery noticed that her green eyes were the exact same shade as her mother's. "How quickly they forget that it was your Father who starved them to start with when he decided to support my uncle."

"Your Grace-" She began but Myrcella held up her hand to stop her from speaking.

"Now, I don't mean to bring up any old wounds or start a feud with you, it was chaos and plenty who declared for my Uncle Renly or my Uncle Stannis have returned to the crown now. If I were to punish House Tyrell for abandoning the side of the crown then I would have to punish all of them as well and that just isn't likely at all. I'd like us to be friends and If I'm right then your family would like us to be friends."

"So there we are then, we're friends." The Queen smiled and embraced her like she had known her all of her life and pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks before pulling away and adjusting the the pendent that hung around Margaery's neck, the cold metal of it seeming to burn her skin for just a moment. "Just, remember who the Queen is. I should so have to hate to remind you."

"Now, you should get inside my dear. It seems as though it is going to rain again." Queen Myrcella spun on her heels and made her way back to Maegor's Holdfast with Ser Addam and Ser Arys following behind her like silent specters as the rain began to fall. Margaery could only stand there for a moment, telling herself that it was only the chill and the rain that was making her shake.

End of Chapter Nine.

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 **Welp, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **I was really worried about going into this chapter because I've never written for Margaery before and while the show expanded on her character it's less like she was Margaery and more like...she was a character Natalie Dormer would play, no shade to Natalie she's great I just don't think she was playing Margaery.**

 **Anywho, this was also the chapter that shows us a different side of Myrcella. Keep in mind for all that people say she doesn't have any of Cersei's nature and she is Jaime's blood as well as Cersei's she is still Cersei's daughter and she has her Mother's pride and I wanted to explore that as well.  
**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review, a follow, a favorite if you enjoyed and constructive criticism is always welcome.**

 **Lots of love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	11. Chapter 10

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Ten

Myrcella brought up her hand and rubbed at the back of her neck, it had been a very long day full of Small Council meetings and all she wanted to do was get away, go to her chambers and slip under the silk covers of her bed and fall asleep in Trystane's arms but this meeting was still going on and it didn't look like she was going to be able to break away for awhile yet.

They were not left to go hungry at the very least as all through the night food and drink was brought to them through out the night, bread and cheese and fruit and some pitchers of wine at the beginning of the meeting but pitchers of water were brought to them after a certain point just as she had ordered, the meetings were hard enough without having to deal with her councilors becoming drunk.

She reached out to a small bowl which contained some green olives and popped it into her mouth to chew as Humfrey Waters gave her his report on the occurrences within the city. Repairs on the gates and the walls from Stannis's siege was proceeding but it was slow going for the moment as it had been a while since the city had to recover from a siege.

The city was getting more food now but the price of it was still going up and some in Flea Bottom were worse other than they had been before, there had been a riot outside a rich merchant's manse and a fire had been set, the watch was called to deal with it and in the end the riot had been quelled and the fire had been put out but five of the rioters had been killed and so had two of the guardsmen.

Another problem that might become something worse in the future was the influx of refugee coming to the capital from the countryside to try and escape the chaos of the war. The stream had trickled down to a dozen or so a day instead of the hundreds that had been coming near the start of the war but even so it didn't look like there was any end in sight of them.

Myrcella understood why they were coming of course, their homes had been burned and reduced to nothing by both her own family and the Starks and the Tullys and many of them had nowhere else to go but they were barely able to feed those already in the city as it was and if people kept coming into the city then even the food that was sent to them by the Reach would not be able to keep the city fed.

Grand Maester Pycelle was also quick to remind her that he had been in contact with his fellows at the Citadel in Oldtown and they were off the opinion that it was likely to be a short, cold and wet autumn which would then lead into a long, cold and hard winter. He was of concern that the city's stores would not bare the brunt of it long and the people would begin starving once again.

No one could fight a war against enemies outside of their walls when the people that they ruled inside their walls was discontent with them or too busy fighting starvation to fight an invading army outside of their walls. Pycelle might have been old and her Mother might not have much faith in him but he was right when he pointed out that something had to be done about it.

So Myrcella had done something about it, the stores of the Red Keep were certainly not as deep as some of the castles in the Seven Kingdoms but they were large enough to store food for a five-year winter and so had ordered that two years worth of food from the castle's stores be given over to the city stores. The city would still starve if the old wife's tale held true and that a long summer meant that they were due for an even longer winter but the city wouldn't starve within the first week of the snows falling.

But of course what was two years worth of food for the lords and ladies of the Red Keep as well as all the servants was not going to be enough food to keep the people of King's Landing fed for two years but it would still give the city a few months before true starvation sat in and at least for the moment that was the best that she could do.

A few of the people had returned to their farms once she had assured them that the danger had passed and they would have the protection of the crown but it wouldn't make enough of a difference to keep the rest of the city from starving, the best she could hope for now was that the smallfolk who had returned to their fields planted their crops quickly and would be able to have one last harvest before the snows set in.

Myrcella sighed as she reached out for her cup of wine once again and took another sip, she had never thought that being Queen would be easy but she had also never thought that she would ever be Queen either but now she was, the crown had landed on her head and it was up to her to try and do what she could to restore the peace to the kingdoms and keep her people as safe as she could.

But what could she truly do to fix all of this now? Joffery and Grandfather and Uncle Stannis and Uncle Renly and Balon Greyjoy and Robb Stark had already caused so much damage in what the singers called the war of Five Kings and perhaps too much had been done for her, for anyone, to ever be able to truly make better.

But the crown had fallen on her head for better or for worse and now all she could do was the best that she could even if in the end it didn't prove to be enough to fix what had already been broken. Humfrey finished his report then and bowed his head and begged leave to depart back to his post which Myrcella quickly granted, the new Commander of the City Watch was a good man and had proven to be popular with the men he commanded from what she had heard but it was clear that he was still not comfortable within the walls of the Red Keep, addressing men and women so high above his station.

Once Humfrey had left the small council chamber Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat to speak, the old man was still weak from his captivity in the Black Cells and if she was to be fully honestly she would be surprised if he would make it through the Winter to come but he had been serving adequately on the Small Council and he had been right when he had said that her education had not truly prepared her for what it would be like to rule in her own right and his lessons had been quite useful in order to help make up for that.

Of course, Pycelle was her Grandfather's man and he seemed more than a little concerned about her decision to remove the position of Hand from him and many of her lessons with him had included many stories of how her Grandfather had dealt with enemies and treasonous lords, it might have intimidated her if she had not heard all of the stories before.

Her Mother's family was not well liked in Dorne and while it was never something that was brought up to her in conversation she still remembered quite readily the looks that had been directed at her litter as it made it's way through the Shadow City of Sunspear to the Old Palace itself, the only time she had ever seen anyone look at her like that was the day she had left King's Landing.

She had been sailing away from the city when the riot had occurred but even from where she stood on the deck she had been able to hear the screaming carrying across the water from the capital, she had wanted to command the captain to turn back and bring them back into the city but back then she had been nought but a Princess and all those who were around her were under the command of the Lord Hand.

So she did all that she could do at that moment, she went below deck with Rosamund and her Septa and prayed, and she had not stopped praying for the rest of the journey, not just for the well being of her Mother and Tommen but for Uncle Tyrion and Uncle Jaime, for all the knights and ladies and yes even for Joff as well, cruel and stupid as he was he had still been her brother.

And she had prayed for herself and those travailing with her, Uncle Stannis had ships patrolling the waters around Dragonstone and if he found out that she was on board then she would more than likely end up being a captive, she would like to think that her Uncle would not have her killed but then she never thought that Uncle Stannis would betray their family or spread such foul lies about her Mother and Uncle Jaime.

Myrcella knew that her Mother and her Uncle Jaime had always been close but surely that was just to be expected? They were twins and had spent most of their lives together, they would surely be a little closer than most normal siblings but Myrcella had spent most of her life with Tommen and they were probably closer than most brothers and sisters had been but the thought of them being accused for what her Mother and Uncle had been accused made her sick.

But even in Dorne the stories had found their place in the ears of some of the people, "abomination" and "child of sin" had been thrown along with some stones, at one point the little had rocked and she hadn't been able to hold in a scream when the litter had rocked violently to the side, she still remembered how pale Rosamund had grown, how the Septa had bent her head to pray and how Ser Arys Oakheart had clenched the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

But perhaps the gods did listen to prayers after all as just when it seemed that the crowd was about to surge and tip the litter over when suddenly they were saved by a group of Dornish guardsmen atop Sand Steeds came riding down from the Old Palace, the lead guardsman who was taller than any of them and armed with the biggest axe that Myrcella had ever shouted at the angry crowd to disperse.

The command had been obeyed but through the fine gold silk curtains of her litter she had seen the anger in their eyes, they truly did hate her and they truly believed the stories that her Uncle Stannis had been spreading, or they found it that much easier to hate her if they believe the stories. She hadn't been able to stop shaking during the rest of the ride up to the Sandship, even with the guardsmen now escorting her.

Prince Doran had wished to see her as soon as she had arrived and so the bearded man with the massive axe, who she would later learned was named Aero Hotah and was Prince Doran's Captain of the guards as well as his own personal guardsman, lead her through the sandstone corridors of the palace with until they had reached Prince Doran's solar, Ser Arys an ever present white shadow.

Prince Doran had been waiting for her, sitting behind his desk and he had been squinting at a scroll as she walked in and when he rose his head he smiled and put the scroll away and asked Hotah to wait outside before asking Ser Arys to do the same, her protector looked ready to protest but he coincided once Myrcella had asked him to wait outside as well.

He had asked her to sit down and had bid her welcome to Sunspear and had gestured for her to sit down, Myrcella hadn't been able to stop herself from noticing how swollen his fingers were from the gout but she remembered her courtesies and thanked Prince Doran for the offer and took the seat he had offered her.

His black eyes had been kind when he spoke. "I am sorry for the...rough greeting you received on your way through the Shadow City my princess, I wish that I could assure you that such a thing will not happen again but I am afraid that I cannot promise you that, you will be safe as long as you are a guest within my walls as you are under my protection but in the city I am afraid that you will not find much love for your family and there are many who would wish for war against your family and would use your death to ignite it."

Myrcella hadn't been blind to the truths of the world for a very long time now and she knew that the Game of Thrones could be vicious and cruel and petty but even for all of that she never thought for a moment that someone would kill her just to start a war but Prince Doran had been right. She had found herself growing fond of her then future goodfather, he was never unkind or cold but neither did he shield you from the harsher realties of the world.

For all it might hate her Myrcella had soon found herself growing to love Sunspear and the people within it, Trystane had been the first she had truly learned to love and she had been grateful for that. Even as a little girl she knew that there was not much warmth between her Mother and her Father, when she had been very young indeed that had used to upset her greatly but after awhile it was simply something she had grown used to.

She had been relieved to say that the same could not be said for herself and Trystane, she had hardly fallen in love with him the moment she had set her eyes on him like the singers liked to claim every great love started, the first meeting had been in his Father's solar when after their first conversation he had summoned for him so they could finally meet one another.

Myrcella had found him to be very polite and well spoken, taller than she had been expecting and with a nice smile and clean teeth. In truth she had been both too tired and to shaken from her journey to truly make much of a study of him. After a few polite words had been spoken she had asked Prince Doran if she could withdrew to her chambers.

It was in the months and months that had followed where friendship had bloomed between the two of them and it took months more before that friendship became something more, it grew into something more when they had spent countless nights with one another playing games of Cyvasse all the way through till the morning, it grew into something more when they rode through the dunes of the desert to find the ruins of castles who's wells had run dry and whose people had moved on.

The first time she had admitted to herself that Trystane mattered to her more than anyone ever had before was on her first trip to the Water Gardens, he had come to her in the middle of the night with a smile on his face and something in his eyes that had promised that it would be a night that she would never forget.

And it certainly had been that, even the thought of it was enough to bring a smile to her face as she remembered the cool water of the pool against the skin, the way the moon had shone down on them and the way Trystane had made her feel when he had stroked her face. It had been foolish, they had not been married and if they had been caught then who know what would have happened but in the moment she had not cared for any of that.

And it had been the best night of her life.

"Your Grace?" Pycelle's question brought Myrcella out of her thoughts and she realized two things, the first being that the entirety of the Small Council was staring at her and the second was that for however long Pycelle had been speaking she had been staring out into space with a smile on her face as she was caught in her memories. "Are you quite well?"

Fairly certain that her face was on fire and trying to salvage what little dignity she had left she cleared her throat and spoke. "I beg your pardon Grand Maester, my lords, I am afraid that the meeting has made me weary and I allowed my mind to drift, I do give my apologies once again. Now, what were you saying Grand Maester?"

The old man cleared his throat and spoke once again, seeming to take some pleasure in dragging out every word. "As I was saying your Grace, it seems that your Uncle Stannis has taken his armies to the North and has barracked them within Castle Black, this seems to have done with little complaint by the new Lord Commander, Jon Snow, the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark."

Jon Snow, for a moment it was like trying to place a name to someone you had never met but then his features came to her. She had not exactly met him, they had spoken no words to one another but she had seen him when she had been at Winterfell. He had spoken to no one and she remembered how miserable he had looked when she had walked up to the dais with Robb Stark.

And now that miserable boy was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, how had that happened? Of course she knew that the Night's Watch held a vote to chose who would command them that way, rather like the Free Cities of Essos, but Jon Snow was surely the youngest leader they had in a long while? What had he done that had made him worthy of such a position is his brothers eyes?

In truth she supposed it didn't matter, if he was supporting Stannis then that made him an enemy and an Oathbraker. If her Uncle was intent on rising the North against them then something had to be done, the North wouldn't forget or forgive what had been done to them and if her Uncle would offer them vengeance she knew they would take it.

"I see, Grand Maester please write two messages. The first to Lord Commander Snow, reminding him of his vow to take no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms. If he sends my Uncle Stannis away from the Wall now then we will speak no more of it, if he does not then I am afraid I will have no choice but to declare him as a traitor to the Crown and will be forced to take action."

The old Maester nodded, his chain moving as he did so. "And the second message your Grace?"

"To Roose Bolton, inform my Warden of the North that if by the next moon turn it looks as though Lord Stannis still has the allegiance of the Night's Watch, he is to march on the Wall and send me Jon Snow's head." What a strange world she had found herself in, where with a word she could command men to go and kill and die for her.

She did not love it, she took no great joy in it, but neither did she hate it. Myrcella did not want Jon Snow to die, he was a stranger to her but that did not mean he wasn't important to someone else after all, but if he choose to stand against her then truly what other choice did she have? This is not the way she wanted it but it was the way it was and she was the Queen, she would suffer no treason.

The Grand Maester nodded and spoke once again before he left. "Another matter your Grace, also from the North I am afraid, is that we have received a bird from Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbour, it seems that Lord Stannis's onion knight had found a way to smuggle himself into the city and attempted to win the allegiance of the City for Stannis, he has since been taken captive and Lord Wyman wishes to know what to do with him."

Myrcella was quiet for a long moment as she considered what to do with this new information, the Onion Knight. She had meet Davos Seaworth once or twice, he had clearly been raised as lowborn but he was well spoken in his way and clearly a good man, and clearly loyal to her uncle which made him a traitor as well. Did he believe what was spoken of her as well? It surprised her when the thought saddened her somewhat.

Regardless, she knew what she had to do. "Send back a bird to Lord Wyman, Ser Davos is to be bound and brought to here to King's Landing to face the Queen's Justice. Extend an invitation to Lord Wyman as well, I think that it is time for him to be reunited with his son." Wyman Manderly had two sons but only the older one was still alive, the younger had died at the Red Wedding.

In truth she knew that Manderly only allied with them for the moment because he knew that his last son was their captive, no doubt he would be spitting on them otherwise. "If Lord Wyman feels he is not able to make the trip, inform him that we quiet understand. Wylis is unwell as well, Harrenhal is such a dour place and is not good for the health. I might find it for the better to send him to Casterly Rock after he comes to King's Landing, so he might better rest."

As the Grand Maester nodded and left the Small Council chambers to see what she had asked for done, she could only pray that Lord Wyman saw the message within the message. Regardless, she would need to send someone to retrieve Wylis from Harrenhal, he was a highborn captive and when she learned he was being held there she had commanded Ser Gregor to see that he was being well treated until she needed him.

Ah, the Mountain. That was something of a sour point, many of the Dornish lords and ladies who had come for Joffery's wedding had already set out for home, the only ones that had remained were the ladies she had brought with her as companions, her husband, Arianne Martell, Obara, Nymeria and Tyene Sand who had arrived in the city days ago with three hundred Dornish spears at their backs to better hold the city and of course the Red Viper.

She knew what her husband's uncle wanted of course, he wanted her to summon the Mountain to the city so she could deliver justice on to the knight that had killed his niece and nephew and had raped and butchered his sister. He would not leave until he had done so and Ser Gregor would no doubt bring Manderly's son to the capital himself, it wouldn't be long.

The Small Council chamber was empty now except for herself, her Lord Hand and for Varys. Her hand chose that moment to speak. "It has been a long day your Grace and I will not trouble you except for this final matter, the Small Council itself still needs to be filled. We need a new master of ships as well as a new master of coin, vital positions that needed to be filled."

"I am aware Lord Rowan, and I promise you that the matter is well in hand." Everyone in the city had been even more grasping then normal when they had learned that two positions on the council were still unfilled, many had taken to prying her with gifts during court and none seemed to care about how blatant they were being. "If the positions are not filled within the next moon turn, then I shall turn the matter over to you to handle. You have my word on this."

Lord Rowan looked frustrated for a moment and Myrcella had to admit she felt a tiny bit sorry for him, she had to imagine it was hard for a great and powerful lord who had been raised to be second only to the ruler herself to be commanded by a woman young enough to be his daughter. Well, she was certain that he would survive such a horrible fate.

She stood then and bid her lords goodnight, leaving the chamber and began to make her way to her own apartments. Walking in and shutting the door behind her, she could not help but smile at the sight that greeted her. "You know, for all that the Dornish claim to be careful for fear of overusing water you, my love, certainly seem to use more than most."

Trystane turned his head to glare at her over the rim of the copper bathtub and then he spoke. "I do not bathe overly much."

"You bathe more than I do." Myrcella said as she walked over to kneel next to the bathtub and ran her fingers over the surface of the water, letting out a delighted sigh at the warmness of the water.

"It's not my fault you Northerners have no concept of basic cleanliness."

Myrcella stared at her husband for a long moment, blinking. "Did you just say that I stink?"

"Never my love, merely that you have an enchanting ripeness." Myrcella shirked in outrage and splashed Trystane in the face with the bath water and her husband, being a Prince of Dorne, retaliated. In a matter of moments there was more water on the floor that in the tub, her expensive dress was completely soaked through and Myrcella was laughing so hard that her chest hurt and feeling younger and less troubled than she had done in months.

Her maids were quickly summoned and instructed in between fits of giggles and neither of them said anything at the water or her ruined dress, instead they merely laid down towel to soak up the last of the water, removed her dress and quickly dressed her in a new one made of soft green wool and dragged the tub out, leaving her alone with her husband.

Myrcella was laying down on the bed with her head on his chest and Trystane's arms wrapped around her waist. "So, considering that bath was quiet warm I imagine that the hunt did not go overly well?"

"Oh no, the hunt was fine. I brought you home three stags, twenty boars and and over fifty pheasants and grouses." Trystane laughed then and Myrcella had to wonder if it was a sound she would ever get tired off, she hoped not. "You know the Red Keep has actual hunters, you could just send them if you want to fill the stores up with more food."

"I did send them the day before you, they came back with three hundred rabbits by the time the sun went down but your hunts doing something that their's can't, you can forge alliances with the noble lords of Westeros and make us some friends." She looked at Trystane's face as he worried at his bottom lip with his teeth. "Which as I said, I imagine the hunt did not go overly well.""

"It was...uncomfortable." He sighed and bent his head to press a kiss to the top of hers. "I did try, but I am Dornish love and there is a great deal of bad blood between the Reach and Dorne, even more so between Highgarden and Sunspear, you might remember that my uncle crippled Lord Mace's son? It's not something that easily gets forgiven."

"But Willas Tyrell writes to Oberyn, from what your Uncle told me he never held it against him."

"And perhaps he does not but his Father does." Her husband sighed once again. "Every time I open my mouth I think they expect me to suggest that we bond by all going to a brothel together, they hear the stories of what we are from their fathers and grandfathers, that all we care about is fighting and how we are all loose, and suddenly that's all they expect."

"The truth is love I think me making friends or allies is an uphill battle during a storm, none of them want to be my friend. Do you know why? Because they want you, or they want your crown." Trystane cupped her face and stared into her eyes. "They think I only accepted the title of Prince Consort because I am Dornish, they think that if they married you they would be able to make you make them king."

"Mace Tyrell certainly doesn't like it, he wasn't making any efforts to hide it. Next time, if you insist on sending me on a hunt with that man, could you please make it so one of my guards isn't one of his sons? I am fairly certain that if he saw an opportunity there would have been a tragic mishap with an arrow." Trystane jolted away as she sat up then, staring at him for a long moment.

"I would not let that happen, I would kill him if he tried." Myrcella spoke, her voice low and dark as her chest was filled with something she didn't think she had ever felt before. The closest thing she could relate it too was what she had felt when she had warned Margaery Tyrell to remember who the Queen was.

Tyrstane stared at her, his own dark eyes a tempest of different emotions and when he leaned forward to speak, his voice was low. "How would you know, he would claim that it was an accident? He would be surrounded by lords who would claim it was so as well? How you would know that it was an accident?"

"I just would, an accident that just happens to kill the Prince Consort in the middle of a hunt? That's not an accident." Myrcella cupped Trystane's face and brought their lips together, pressing herself as close to him as she could. "I would kill him, I'd have him flayed alive in the middle of the entire court, I'd have his sons and his daughter's heads off, I'd march on Highgarden and burn it to the fucking ground if anything happened to you."

Trystane stared at her, he smiled and kissed her again. "I know you would my love, and I you. You are my wife, my queen, and I will kill anyone who tries to take you from me."

Smiles and kisses were shared for the rest of the night and the fire in the hearth burned away, all consuming and destructive as it filled the room with light and warmth.

End of Chapter Ten

* * *

 **Welp, another chapter done.**

 **I really love writing for Myrcella, my interpretation for her is that Tyrion was wrong, at least in part. Myrcella has all her Mother's beauty but she does have some of her nature as well, she is possessive to a degree and if she feels wronged she will retaliate and sometimes in extreme measures, the difference is Myrcella knows when to restrain herself.**

 **If Trystane died and she thought that someone had a hand in it, she would not have any mercy on whoever did it.**

 **Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it and please consider leaving a follow and a favorite.**

 **With a ton of love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	12. Chapter 11

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Eleven

The Wall was weeping but the sun was not shining on it and Samwell Tarly knew that it wouldn't be much longer before it was so cold that didn't matter if the sun came out at all, the Wall would not shed a single tear. Winter was not something that he had ever known in the south, the nights might have stretched on a little longer than they did in the Summer but Samwell had never known cold like it till the day he had arrived at the Wall.

He had never seen snow before either, when he and the guards that his Father had commanded to bring him from Horn Hill to the North had ridden past the Neck, which itself had been a terrifying experience that had come close to making him soil himself several times, almost none of them knew what to make of it when soft white something began to fall out of the skies.

Sam thought it had been beautiful, like something out of a song, but then it didn't let up and the snow just kept on falling and falling and falling and it had been so very cold that Sam had thought that he would shake himself out of his saddle. It had taken all that he had not to weep when he realized that he was going to spend the rest of his life being colder than this once he had finally taken his place at the Wall.

He had wanted to hate his Father then but he honestly did not think that he could, not that he had any love for him anymore after he had threatened him into giving up his rights as heir to Horn Hill, in point of fact Sam was fairly certain that any love he might have had for his Lord Father had been destroyed long ago. Fear had ever been his strongest emotion, and it had always been the first thing he felt whenever he thought of Lord Randyll Tarly.

It was not that Sam even wanted to be lord of Horn Hill, he knew that he wouldn't be suitable for it and that Dickon would be a far better one and Samwell wished his younger brother well, he and Dickon had little and less in common and Father had never allowed them to spend much time with one another, less Sam somehow infect his perfect heir with even a single spark of weakness.

He still didn't understand why his Father hadn't just let him go and become a maester, it had seemed to Sam like a perfect solution at the time, Father would be able to get rid of Sam and have Dickon as his heir while Sam would be able to get away from his Father and be able to read so many books and learn so many things and have a position that had honor in it's own way even if it was not the honor that his Father had meant for him to have.

His Lord Father had not seen it that way, to put it lightly. When he had brought it up to him one day in his solar, his face had drawn and he had looked so angry that for a moment Sam had thought that he was going to hit him. It would certainly not have been the first time he had done so but his Father had done so much to him in the effort of making him stronger that a strike to the face was possibly the least awful thing that his Father could do to him.

And Randyll Tarly seemed to have agreed with him, if Sam wanted to wear chains then he would oblige him readily. That was how he had ended up in the dungeons of Horn Hill for what had seemed like a thousand nights but what he was told later had only been three, impossible as that seemed, with his hands manacled to the wall.

His Father had not bothered to feed him during his stay in the dungeons and only allowed him a single cup of water per day and he was commanded not to cry by his Father who told him that he may choose to not bring any more water for awhile and it would be wise for him to save as much as he could. Sam truly had tried not to cry, but once he had started he hadn't been able to stop them after that.

Father might have left him down there for more than three days if not for the intervention of Sam's Lady Mother, for all he had feared his Father he had never held a drop of anything other than love for her. There was little that she had ever been able to do to stop her husband from putting him through the tortures that he hoped would make him stronger but she had always been there on the other side of that hell with a warm embrace and a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Lady Melessa had never made him feel ashamed or weak for seeking comfort from her, in truth it was only her and his sisters that had made Horn Hill even slightly bearable. One night, he had found himself walking the battlements of the castle and he had looked over the edge down to the ground and for a moment he thought of how it would be a kind of freedom, to give himself over the stranger might have been the only way he would ever be free of his Father.

But while he had tried to step up on to the battlements he couldn't make his body move, it was so far down and surely to die by falling from such a great height would be painful? It had started another wave of tears from him then and he had to step back and it was at that moment he came to such a terrible realization, that his Father had been right in the end. He was a coward and he was never going to get any better.

And now his Father stood higher than any other man in the Seven Kingdoms, only the Hand of the Queen standing as his equal and only the Queen himself standing above him. Lord Randyll would hate that no doubt, the idea that a woman was above him. Sam remembered one time when bright, brave and bold Talla had come into her Father's solar when Samwell and Dickon had both been in there with him, one of the few rare times that all three Tarly men had been together, and insisted she would come with them on the hunt the following morning.

Sam had been terrified that he would hit her, or send her to dungeons to teach her a lesson. He had not, he had simply told her that it was not a woman's place just as it was not a man's place to birth a babe. Men had their wars, women had theirs. It was for men to hunt and for women to ruin the estates of their Lord's castles and he would hear no such foolishness from her again.

He and Dickon had let her down, Dickon had simply repeated everything that Father had said like one of those large, colorful talking birds from the Summer Islands and Sam had not been able to say anything, he had merely nodded. He wished he had been braver but he hadn't and Talla had not spoken to any of them till the moon turned again.

What was Queen Myrcella like if she had put a man like his Father in charge of winning all of her battles for her? Wise, perhaps as no one could deny that Lord Randyll was a great warrior, he had been the only man to defeat King Robert when he had been only Robert the Rebel even if Lord Mace had been the one to claim credit for the victory.

But would the Queen have chosen him if he knew what sort of man he was really like? Maybe she would have, everyone spoke of how Myrcella looked like her Mother and Jon had told him that Queen Cersei was cold and cruel and King Stannis believed that she had cuckolded King Robert with her own brother and had him murdered, somehow.

There seemed to be so many kings and queens about now, and all of them had to be called that. Queen Myrcella sit the Iron Throne had all the strength of the West and Dorne at her back now and Sam was not a warrior at heat but even now he wasn't sure how King Stannis was meant to win against her now, even if he could convince the North to support him and even with his Red witch.

Sam sighed and stepped back from the wall, he had wasted too much time thinking as it was and Jon was expecting him. His new steward Satin had come and gotten him from the archives. He seemed a nice man, though their brothers were quick to tell cruel stories of his time in Oldtown without even knowing if they were true.

Jon was sitting behind his desk when Sam arrived and a letter was in front of him on the desk and King Stannis was sitting on the other side, grinding his teeth and Sam did have to wonder how it was that the man had not chipped a tooth yet. His red woman was in the corner, staring into the flames of Jon's fire, a silent specter cloaked in scarlet. "You sent for me, Lord Commander."

"Yes Sam, I did. One moment." Jon turned his attention back to King Stannis. "Will there be anything else, your Grace?"

"No, I don't believe there will be." Stannis rose from his seat and walked over to the witch and put his hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her away from her flames and Samwell caught sight of her eyes, even those were red. It was like she was a flame that had been shaped into a woman. "Farewell to you, Lord Snow."

"Farewell, your Grace." Jon called back and then let out a sigh once Stannis had left, his hands coming up to brush over his long face. Sam didn't know what to do or say so he merely stayed back until Jon had pulled his hands away from his face. "King Stannis will going on the march tomorrow morning, taking all of his men with them aside from a few who will be staying here to attend the Queen and Princess Shireen."

"Are we-are we happy their going?" Sam asked as he approached Jon's desk, waiting for Jon to gesture at the chair on the other side before he sat down himself. In truth, he was never sure how welcome he should have made King Stannis and his knight's feel. Yes, they had saved them all from Mance Rayder and his host but everyone of the Watch knew their vows said they were to take no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms, it felt like a blade had been hanging over all of their heads.

But at the same time if the wildings, or something else, tried to breach the Wall then it meant that they had fewer bodies to man the Wall against it but at the same time Stannis was taking most of the wildings with him to form part of his own armies. It was a game of halves and in truth Sam wasn't sure if they had gotten the best halves for themselves.

"It's not a matter of if we are happy about it or not, I'm afraid. It's a matter of survival. A raven from King's Landing came this morning." Jon pushed the letter on his desk over towards him. Sam picked it up and let his eyes move over the page.

 _To Lord Commander Jon Snow,_

 _It has come to the attention of her Grace, Myrcella of the House Baratheon, Queen of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar that the traitor and false king Stannis is at this moment present at the Wall. The Queen is distress and confused at these events Lord Commander.  
_

 _If not only for the fact Lord Stannis is a traitor and kinslayer it is distressing in another way that the honorable brothers of the Night's Watch have forgotten their own vows. You are to take no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms, to allow Lord Stannis to stay at the wall is breaking that vow and is also to commit treason against the crown and the one true Queen.  
_

 _Queen Myrcella is not without mercy and the raven we have received from the Night's Watch asking for more men to help to guard the wall has been received and those of us at court when the late King Joffery sat the throne have not forgotten when one of your own honorable brothers came to court and spoke well of the need of more soldiers and King Joffery had so kindly agreed that man of the watch to take men from the dungeons of the Red Keep to swell your ranks.  
_

 _The plight of the sworn brothers of the Night's Watch is not unseen to us but at the same time we cannot tolerate your must noble order consorting with traitors, lowborn smugglers, vile false knights and foreign born witches. Queen Myrcella hopes that you will find it in yourself to remember your vows and will follow them once again and cast Lord Stannis out.  
_

 _Again, we all pray for you to see sense Lord Commander, may the Crone lift her lantern high and her light guide back into the Queen's peace.  
_

 _Written in the name of her Grace, Myrcella the first of her name of the House Baratheon, Queen of the Andals, The First Men and the Rhoynar. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms. Done in the sight of gods and men.  
_

 _Grand Maester Pycelle._

"Grand Maester Pycelle has an amazing talent, I've never seen any man use a hundred words when one would do." Jon said with a twitch of his lips that some might call a smirk before he let out a sigh that sounded to old and to tired for a man so young. Sam had to wonder when the last time he got any sort of sleep was. Had he done wrong? By making it so that Jon was the Lord Commander, had he hurt his best friend more than he had helped him?

Sam didn't know what to say so he merely kept his mouth shut and waited for Jon to speak again. "But all the same, he could have written a thousand words and I would see the threat here all the same. Get rid of Stannis or draw the wrath of the Crown. The problem there is that Stannis has an army here while the Crown's armies are all below the Neck and Winter will be upon us any day now it seems."

"Thankfully for all of us, when I showed Stannis the letter it seemed that he agree he waited too long here as well and he will be on the march come the morrow." Jon Snow sighed and played with the letter again. "But no, to answer your question Sam, I am not really at all happy about it if I was to be honest with you. You and I both know what's coming and we need as many men as possible to hold against it, to beat it back. They know nothing about what dangers we face, Stannis at the very least understood that. What does Myrcella Baratheon understand?"

"Have you met her?"

"Once, when the royal family came to Winterfell." Jon huffed a laugh. "I thought was clueless, she spent most of the feast looking at my brother Robb like he had hung the sun and the moon and all of the stars in the skies. But I think at the time I was just jealous, I was a bastard sitting at a low table, hidden out of sight while Robb got to march to the dais with a pretty princess on his arm. I was younger then, younger and more foolish."

"Let's not talk about the past, we need to talk about you. I'm sending you to Oldtown. You're going to train to be a Maester, you will be taking Maester Aemon, Gilly and her babe with you."

Jon might have said more but Sam didn't hear it, training to be a maester? Going to Oldtown? His Father would hear of it, his Father was the Lord Protector and he would know of it. The moment Sam imagined his eyes staring at him he suddenly couldn't take a breath, Jon was moving his lips but no sound was coming out and he looked so worried. Sam would be worried too, if the rest of the world had started to spin and went dark as the floor was suddenly a lot closer than it had been before.

End of Chapter Eleven.

* * *

 **First off, timeline. By this point in the books Sam had already left for Oldtown but I decided to move it up a little bit for plot and character reasons. Other than that, I think this will be the last chapter that focuses on people reacting to the fact that Myrcella has the throne. Now Characters will go into their own plotlines, but ever so slightly altered in some places and massively altered in others.  
**

 **Any who, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter we are going back to King's Landing for a chapter from Myrcella's P.O.V. Hope everyone is looking forward to that.**

 **With a ton of love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


	13. Chapter 12

The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun

Chapter Twelve

The throne room smelled of dead flowers.

It itched his nose and Davos Seaworth wondered how the high lords and noble ladies could stand the scent of it. It was so cloyingly sweet that it made vomit rise at the back of his throat, the only smell that could possibly be worse than it was the smell of burning flesh. He had smelt that the last time he had been here, out on the water on his ship.

And then the gates of what had to be the worst of the seven hells had opened, and green demons had danced atop the water. His sons had burnt that night and Davos felt it in his belly, he should have burnt with them, with his sons and with his ship. He never thought of himself as an old man, but now what else could he be? His sons were dead and it had aged him, and he was so tired.

But it seemed that the gods would not let him rest, not yet at least. Not while Stannis Baratheon did not sit the throne, the most honest man that he had ever known and the throne was held by bastards, born of treason and incest between a brother and sister. Were it any other man in the Seven Kingdoms, then Davos might have taken it for a lie he told so that he might gain the throne for himself.

But not Stannis, never Stannis.

He had failed him though, had failed in the task that had been given to him. No doubt his King had learned what had happened to him by now and had already buried him and moved on to whatever other problems faced him. And thus, Davos would have to face his fate alone. But so be it, he would die as he was always would.

A king's man.

Lord Wyman cleared his throat as he stood forward and he seemed to be doing his best to not notice Davos, which he imagined was more than understandable. He had his plans for him, he had confessed that much to him and now all of them had been put to ruin and he had placed himself in the lion's den.

Davos remembered that day when he had been brought to Lord Wyman, in that chamber below the Merman's Court. Rings sparkled at every fat finger in the light of the touch even as his eyes were dark. "Ser Davos, I wish I could say that the hospitality I showed you was for a reason and that now I can share it with you. But I cannot."

"I sent a raven to the capital, informing them of your presence in my cells. I asked what was to be done with you, and I had hoped that the response would be that I was to strike your head off and send it to them." He had sighed then and shook his head, every single one of his chins wobbling. "If they had done so, then you would have been saved. We had a prisoner ready, a knife to shorten his fingers and tar to obscure his features."

"Alas, this is not what the bird sent to us said. You are to be bound and brought before the Queen. I am afraid there is naught more that I can do for you Ser. I can not pay a man to pretend to be you, not when a sword to the neck would be all that was waiting for them and you are a knight, even if one of low birth. Someone would see through it, perhaps even the Queen might."

"She has my son Ser, she means to offer him back to me if I give you to her." In that one moment, he looked so pitiful that any anger or despair that Davos felt at his fate had all drained away. "He is my son, I must go to him and I must bring him home. I pray that you will find it within yourself to find some small scrap of the Mother's mercy and forgive me."

Davos already had, he was a Father and he still had sons that lived and breathed. What would he not do for them, in the end? And so, Davos had been bathed and his beard had been trimmed and he had been given fine chambers in Lord Wyman's castle as they waited for a ship to be prepared for them that would take them down to the capital.

And here they were, the trip had seemed to take no time at all. Davos was on his knees, so the girl Myrcella only looked that much higher above him as she sat the Iron Throne in a gown of crimson and gold, a golden circlet with a single green jewel set into it and a golden chain with emeralds dangling off of it was around her neck.

On the dais, next to the Iron Throne, in a high backed padded chair was a Dornish boy that Davos had to assume was Prince Trystane of House Martell, his black eyes looked him and they were still, whatever he was feeling in that moment he was doing well in keeping it a close secret.

In front of the steps of the dais, a long table with men sitting behind it. Most of them he knew, Lord Tarly and Lord Rowan from the siege at Storm's End. Varys the Spider and Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden. The only ones he did not know were another Dornishman who looked to be highborn and a man he could tell was born in King's Landing and looked to be a Gold Cloak.

And in front of them, the seven white Swords. Though the only ones he knew were Ser Meryn and Ser Arys. No, he knew another. The tallest and broadest of the lot and yet somehow he had overlooked him. No, not him. Her. Brienne of Tarth. She was grabbed as a member of the Kingsguard, all in white armor and with a white cloak.

"Your Grace, here is the man you wished for. Ser Davos of House Seaworth, the Onion Knight. Hand of of your treasonous uncle, brought here now to face the Queen's judgement." Lord Wyman spoke, the poor man desperately looked like he needed to sit down as soon as he possible could. "The Mannderly's of White Harbor, ever remain your Grace's most humble and loyal servants."

"Thank you, Lord Wyman." The Queen spoke and then turned her attention on to Davos, her green eyes seemed to burn into him for a moment before she finally smiled. "I've seen you at several feasts, Ser Davos. Though, I do not think that we ever actually managed to ever speak to one another but I knew of you well from all the stories."

"The Onion Knight, it was a story my Father loved to tell when he had been deep in his cups. So, I heard it often." Myrcella looked far away for a moment and then cleared her throat. "How one man single handily made it so that Storm's End did not yield, it was always my most favorite of his stories. You were very brave."

Was he expected to say something? Should he say something, or should he merely be silent. In the end, he choose to speak. "I brought onions, my lady. It was hardly any great trouble."

"You are speaking to Myrcella of the House Baratheon, Queen of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and you will address her as your Grace." Lord Rowan had said that, and when Davos took a closer look at the man he had noticed that the man had his own golden chain, one made of hands interlocking.

"There's no need for that, not at the moment, Lord Rowan." Myrcella spoke and the hunting hound sat back on it's haunches, though the scolding had clearly had it's effect. "Ser Davos, my Uncle lifted you up. I know he did. He gave you a keep and he made you a knight. He made your wife a Lady and gave your sons opportunities they would not have had otherwise."

"That would make anyone loyal, and I do not think that you are a bad man at all." Myrcella sighed and shook her head and in that moment Davos noticed how young she truly was, a girl. "But I am afraid that you have been played for a fool, Ser. You have been snared by my Uncle's lies. I don't doubt that you believe them, but that is what they are all the same. Lies."

"But I believe you are a good man, worthy of the knighthood that was given to you even if the man who gave it has fallen so far." A protest was at his lips but before he could say it, the Queen carried on. "It is why I am giving you this one chance. Bend the knee, Ser. Bend the knee and renounce my Uncle. Do so, and you will be welcomed back into the Queen's peace. Your wife and sons will be as well."

And if he did not, then they would still be in danger. The threat was silent but it was there and Davos did not know what to do. What would happen to Devan, all alone at the Wall if he took the mercy that the Lannister girl was offering? What would happen to Marya and Stannis and Steffon if he did not? What could he do now?

Tell the truth, and be a King's man. That was all he could do.

"I will not, I know the truth. The throne you sit belongs to Stannis of the House Baratheon, the rightful heir." A thunderous outrage broke out in the throne room then but it died when Myrcella held up her hand, her eyes were sad he noted.

"I see, I stand by my opinion Ser. You are a good man, and loyal. But you have been misguided and thus, if you will rejoin the Queen's peace then I am afraid that I have little option left to me." Myrcella stood and began to walk down the steps. "Davos of House Seaworth, you are found guilty of treason against the crown. I sentence you to death by beheading, to be carried out by dawn tomorrow. May the Father judge you justly, and the Mother have mercy on your soul."

"Guards, please take Ser Davos to a tower cell." Two men in Lannister armor and red cloaks came up to him and put their hands under his shoulders and hauled him up to his feet and began to drag him away. The lords and ladies muttering as he was being dragged away and in that moment Davos hated them more than he had ever hated anyone, even more than the Red Woman. Just as he was taken out of the door, the last thing he heard was the Queen speak again. "Now, Lord Wyman. We have our own matters to discuss?"

Davos did not hear the reply, he was dragged all the way through the Red Keep and up some very steep stairs before he was thrown into the cell, a cruse escaped him as his forehead bounced off of the stone floor and then one of the guards chained him to the wall and both of them quickly left, locking the door behind them.

His only companion was the silence, and it was soon joined by darkness and then Davos Seaworth realized that he was going to die when the sun came up. It was one thing to go and fight in a war, with the chance that you could die. But there was no could, he was going to die on the morrow. It was a fact, and he could not escape it.

He was surprised that he was not more afraid, he thought that he would be. But he wasn't. He thought that perhaps the Mother had saved him for some reason, perhaps it was for this. To die this way. It was a comforting thought, and one that made sense to him. It was better than thinking that he had only been spared by blind chance, that his sons had died for nothing when he had lived for nothing.

So Davos closed his eyes, and he prayed. For his Wife, for his sons, for Stannis and Selyse and Shireen and for Edric Storm. He prayed for all of them. He prayed that the Mother would have mercy on him, for all his sins. For knowing other women, for being greedy and for being cruel and for doing pain on to others.

He prayed for everything that he felt needed to be prayed for.

He had gotten so used to the silence, that when the door to his cell opened. He had nearly jumped out of his skin, a specter all in white came into the cell followed by a woman in black and for a moment Davos thought he must be dreaming but then his senses came back to him and he saw that it was Ser Arys Oakheart and Myrcella Baratheon, who had changed her dress to one of black and gold.

"I do not think this is wise, your Grace." The knight of the Reach spoke, his eyes were narrowed at Davos like he expected him to pull free from the wall and kill the girl with his own bare hands.

"He is chained Ser Arys, and he is condemned as well and I will speak to him. Please, wait outside." The knight looked he was about to object but seemed to think better of it, leaving the room and it was then Davos noted that girl was holding something in her arms, whatever it was it was covered by a cloth. "I do hope that you do not mind, I wished to speak to you. I brought you some food."

Myrcella removed the cloth and sure enough she was holding a golden plate with a pie atop of it as well as what looked like a skin of wine. "The pie is chicken and mushroom, I hope you do not mind it. I am uncertain what it is you would like, my first thought was onions but I thought you might think I was mocking you. The skin has wine from the Arbor, I hope you would like that at least."

"I like chicken and mushroom, my lady. And the wine is welcome, thank you." The Queen stepped closer and put the plate down and nudged it closer to him with her foot and then stepped back once Davos reached out to take it, the pie was cold and was probably just a leftover that some pour kitchen boy would not get to have now but Davos's belly had been empty since the morning and he was starved.

The gravy had thickened and the chicken hurt his jaw to chew and yet it seemed almost perfect to him, he reached for skin to help it go down and helped himself to a long swallow. He cleared his throat. "So, why is my Lady here? A last meal is welcome, but I do not understand why she would come herself instead of just sending a servant."

"I wanted to speak to you, I heard the stories but that's not the same thing. And knowing my Father, and he was my Father, he not doubt exaggerated." Myrcella sat down at the far wall of the cell, away from Davos and smiled at him. "I want you to know, that I did not lie to you. I think that you are a good and loyal man, and my offer to you was genuine as well. If you had bent the knee, I would have raised you up and let you go home. I want you to know that."

"...I do know that my Lady, your offer is kind and generous but I could not accept it. Because I know the truth and the throne you sit is not yours. I can not ignore that, I can not pretend I do not know the truth." His throat was dry and he reached down to take a swallow of the wine from the skin again. "What is to happen to my wife?"

Myrcella sighed, playing with a thread of her black and gold dress that had come loose, had she grabbed herself in that so she could feel more like a Baratheon? So she could convince herself? "Well, at this point...I am afraid that depends on her now. She's the wife of a traitor, but your keep is not anyone's high priority so it depends. If she yields at the end of the war, assuming I win and I do intend to win, I see no reason to do her any harm and I will try to let her keep the keep, though the lands around may have to be reduced."

"My Lady is...she is merciful." It was a shame she was not trueborn, she would make a good queen. Gods, Davos was so tired and he brought his hand up to rub at his eyes and even that seemed to take a great deal out of him. "Gods, I am so very tired. I imagine I should go to sleep, but then of course, when I wake up. The headsman will be waiting for me."

"No, he will not." There was a deep sadness in Myrcella's eyes then and she got to her feet, she looked down at him. "Because, I am afraid very much that you will not be waking up. I hope you truly enjoyed the pie and the wine, I am sorry the pie was cold but it had to be as I would not be able to slip the mixture into a warm, freshly made one."

A jolt of fear ran through Davos and he wanted to say something, anything. But there was nothing that he could do in that moment, suddenly speaking seemed so hard and he was so tired and Myrcella was weeping. "My husband's bastard cousin taught me this mixture, a gentle passing. She called it, it saps you of all your energy and then you fall into a deep sleep and then your heart slows until it stops."

"I'm sorry, it's just that this seemed to be kinder. There is little dignity in a swordsman lopping your head off, and for a good man a gentle death in his sleep it was the best I could do if you would not bend the knee." She brought up her hand to wipe away her tears from his eyes, green eyes the shame shade as her Mother's.

"And of course, it works well for me. Men might find courage in you dying for your king, but there is little courage to be found in an old man dying in his sleep." The Queen turned and walked over to the door. "Goodbye, Ser Davos. I am sorry." And with that, she was gone.

Davos wanted to scream, he wanted to rage. But he was so tired, he wanted to shut his eyes and sleep. Surely he could shut them, just for a moment or two. So he could think what he was to do next, yes, he could do that.

Davos Seaworth shut his eyes.

End of Chapter Twelve.

* * *

 **Wow this hurt cause I actually really like Davos.**

 **Anywho, the most important thing about this chapter, aside from the death of the Onion Knight, is the fact that Wyman Manderly is now in King's Landing and there is indeed a reason for that.**

 **Also, Brienne is a member of the Queensguard. Before anyone points out that Brienne is not a knight and cannot be a knight because she is a woman, I would like you to go and read Jaime's last chapter because if you read it carefully, it explains how she can be a member of the Queensguard even though she is not a knight.**

 **I hope you enjoyed, please leave a follow, a favorite and a review.**

 **With a great deal of love,**

 **Discordant Symphony.**


	14. Chapter 13

The Lion Queen and the Prince of The Sun

Chapter Thirteen

It was a warm day and she had to admit that it was starting to look like a mistake had been made when it came to the choice of clothing she had decided to wear, it was possible that she had forgotten how hot the capital actually was considering that she had spent so much time in Dorne where no summer heat could compare to Dorne, even in the Autumn.

The heavy velvet gown then was a mistake but it was too late to change it now so all she could do was bare it as best as she could and thus she forced a smile on to her face as she sat the Iron Throne in front of the entire court. It still felt odd to sit here, even after all this time. It was not that she didn't want to be Queen, it wasn't that she thought she would be a bad one but she had simply never thought that she would be one at all.

The thought of her brothers still filled her with sadness, even now. She had never held much love for Joff but he had been her brother still and Tommen had been so sweet, from the moment he was born, he hadn't deserved to die. She could still remember how he had cried when it had been announced that she was being sent to Dorne.

He had come to her chambers and cried into his skirts and swore that he would not let them send her away, and then suggested that she hide herself in his chambers, under his bed to make sure that no one could find her. If no one could find her then no one could send her away to Dorne. It was the sort of logic that only a child could understand in the end but Myrcella had been half tempted to go along with it.

She hadn't wanted to leave at all, but uncle Tyrion had made it clear to her that she had no choice in the matter and that she had to be sent to Dorne to marry Prince Trystane, for the glory of her house. She had to try her hardest not to cry when he told her that and she had to do so again on the day when she left the city, not crying until she was out of sight of land.

She had to stop this, she wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a Queen now, and a married woman besides. It wouldn't be long before she was a Mother herself after all. Maybe she would have a son and she and Trys could name him Tommen, maybe if she had two more sons she could name them Tyrion and Jaime. With three little girls as well, named Sansa and Cersei and Arianne.

Yes, she would like that. She would like that very much.

But there was much more and more that needed to be done before any of that, a queen had much that weighed upon her and her people would hear from her now when it came to matters of justice. She nodded and the guards opened the doors of the Throne Room and the lords and ladies and smallfolk hurried in and Myrcella sat as straight as she could atop the Iron Throne.

The Lords always came before the smallfolk, as it had been done for three hundred years and as it was likely to be done for three hundred more. The first was a dispute between two lords when it came to the damning of a river, it seemed that neither was more powerful than the other in truth nor was either in any truth more deserving of it.

But, one of them had been loyal to the crown while the other had sworn allegiance to her Uncle Stannis. In truth, he had not done much of anything. One of the only, if not the only, lords of the crownlands to support someone other than her brother in the War of the Five Kings, he had spent much of the war huddled up in his castle instead of sending men to fight for her brother, though he had not sent men to aid her uncle either.

In the end, she allowed the Lord who came to her asking to expand the ability to damn the river to his pleasure. The other lord glared at her but said nothing until Myrcella dismissed the both of them. She had not won the loyalty of anyone today, but she might have ensured someone else's loyalty in the next war, whenever that would be. Because of course there would be another one, that had been decided long before she had been given the Iron Throne and the crown.

All that she could do, was make sure that she won it when it came. And that meant doing things that sometimes she was never going to be able to forgive herself for, Ser Davos's eyes still stared at her accusingly from the table in the Grand Maester's study after her handmaiden had come to her in the morning and told her that the Onion Knight had been found dead in his cell.

She had to do it, hadn't she? Her uncle Stannis was thousands of leagues away in the North and desperately trying to win people other to his side, if the people could see that Ser Davos was loyal to her uncle even when his head was about to be stricken off, if his final words were about his loyalty to the true king and how the vile rumors about herself and her Mother and her Uncle Jaime were actually true, then how many knights and lords who bared witness to it would find themselves wondering if it truly was and would consider turning against her.

In his death, Ser Davos Seaworth might have proven more useful to her uncle than he ever had done in life. So Myrcella decided to stop it, the septons were preaching now in the streets how Ser Davos had repented his sins all night in his tower cell and the Mother Above had taken mercy on him and lifted him up to take his place in seven heavens.

It was a sweet story, if nothing else. Myrcella had ordered that the body of the Onion Knight be given to the silent sisters for their care and then order that the bones be sent home to his wife. It was not much, and it did not make up for what she had done to him, but it was the best that she could do. She had not lied to him about his wife, however.

If she surrendered, then Myrcella would allow her to keep the castle and the lands that had been granted to her and her husband. Myrcella prayed that she would, because if she did not then that would mean having to take the little keep by force and there was no hope of that happening without bloodshed occurring, but she would have to do it.

She managed to suffer through another two hours of hearing the demands of her people and answering them before she remembered that a small council meeting needed to be held and how sad it was that she would actually prefer that to her currant predicament. She gestured to the herald to announce the end of the court before she rose from the Iron Throne and left via the queen's door.

Her small council was already waiting for her and sat at the Queen's place at the head of the table and allowed herself to examine her council, Lord Mace was not here anymore as while he was the Master of Law she had entrusted in him the responsibility of laying siege on Storm's End the day after Ser Davos had been found dead. A few words of flattery, telling him of how her Father had once said that he wouldn't have wanted to be the one to hold Storm's End against him and he was practically chomping at the bite to go.

The latest raven suggested that the siege was now well established with catapults flinging rocks at the high walls with little effect but that hardly matter, no food would be allowed into the castle with Lord Redwyne's fleet was patrolling the bay to stop resupply from the sea and Lord Mace would stop them from the land. Storm's End would yield or be starved.

Of course, Storm's End had deep stores and it would probably be at least a year or two before the castle was ready to yield to them but that worked all to the best for her, between starving out Storm's End and Dragonstone it would keep Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne away from the city long enough to strength her own influence in the entire city and make it her own stronghold. The smallfolk still had a great love for House Tyrell, for feeding them even though they had been the ones who had starved them in the first place.

The farms and fields would need to be rebuilt, not just to win their love but also to increase the flow of food and to send the people back into the fields to decrease the amount of people in the city and the stress on the city's stores, some had already gone but not enough, not enough by even half, but to do that they would need the coin in order to do so and that was the first task that she had given to her new Master of Coin.

Myrcella could not deny, that she would savor the look of complete and utter shook that spread on Lord Wyman's face when she had made the offer for the rest of her life. Perhaps he had thought that when he stepped foot in the Red Keep that he would never step foot outside of it again, to be chained in the Black Cells and have his head put on a spike.

The man certainly knew how to haggle, perhaps his Mother had been a fishwife and in the end it was decided that Lord Wyman would be the new Master of Coin in exchange for her agreeing to send his son and heir Wylis Manderly back to the North. Myrcella agreed and the deal was struck and the Lord of White Harbor was given a seat on the small council.

There had been some concern from the other small council members, well, mostly it was Grand Maester Pycelle who objected, saying that it might be foolish to allow an northman to sit on the council after they had been raised in rebellion not so long ago but Myrcella, while she thanked them all for her concern, did not change her mind.

Lord Wyman had by all accounts been a more than suitable Lord for White Harbor, and while it was the smallest city in the Seven Kingdoms it was also the faster growing as well and such a man seemed likely to make a more than adequate master of coin and more than that, it was an branch of peace to the rest of the North as well.

And more than that, he would make for a useful hostage to keep White Harbor loyal. Of course, they would need to get rid of his guard as well in order to stop him from trying something foolish like attempting to force his way to freedom. Of course, she already had a plan in mind for that and all she would need would be for Ser Gregor to arrive with Ser Wylis, which he should do on the morrow which would help her to kill two birds with one stone.

The only other great changes to the council were the absence of Lord Tarly, who had ridden back out to Maidenpool in order to bring the Riverlands to peace, before he had left he had sworn to bring her back the leaders of the Brotherhood Without Banners, Beric Dondarrion and the woman, this Lady Stoneheart who by all accounts had a strange pleasure for hanging her victims, and her Uncle Jaime.

Once he had his white cloak stripped from him, not an occasion that she had taken any great pleasure in, Lord Tywin had taken his son and heir back with him to the Westerlands, once he was there her Grandfather would have him placed in Casterly Rock to learn how to rule while he rode back out to the Riverlands in order to help Lord Tarly and to lay siege to those castles that still held out against the Freys.

It was odd to be without Uncle Jaime, she had always felt that she could have a great deal of trust in him. Her Mother had put that into her, from as early on as she could remember her Mother had whispered into her ear. _Trust your uncle Jaime_ , the Queen had always said, _your uncle will always keep you safe_. But now he was gone.

Her Mother was gone as well. Cersei Lannister had been sent off to the Arbor, to be wed to Horas Redwyne. She knew that Mother had still not quite forgiven her for that, but it had needed to be done and she had been able to embrace her warmly before she climbed into the wheelhouse which would take her to the Reach, where from Oldtown she would take ship to make her journey to her new husband.

Myrcella had to wait until the raven arrived from the Arbor to inform her that the wedding had occurred to remove the white cloak from her uncle, part of the reason that Lord Paxter had agreed to the match was that he thought that any children that Horas and her Mother might have had would have had a claim to Casterly Rock, if Ser Jaime stood as heir then no doubt he wouldn't have agreed to it.

But now Ser Jaime was the heir to Casterly Rock once again and her Mother had been wedded and bedded and was the future Lady of the Arbor, it would be her Lannister children that would stand as heirs to the Arbor instead of any Redwyne's standing as heirs to Casterly Rock. She had to admit, it was quite cleverly done if she did say so herself. Lord Paxter could not annul the marriage after all, they had wedded and bedded and her Mother was known to be fertile. Yes, it was well done indeed.

Her Uncle would need to be wed as well but she leave to her Lord Grandfather, there had been some talk of wedding him to Lady Margaery but she doubted that was going to happen. Lord Mace now had two of his most powerful bannermen given positions high above him with Lord Rowan as her hand and Lord Tarly named as protector of the Realm. And Lord Paxter had been snared.

To be sure to be the Lady of Casterly Rock would not be a prize to be sneered at, she doubted that Margaery Tyrell would. But Mace Tyrell might yet, he was not so much a fool that he would not notice how thoroughly he had been snared by the lions of Casterly Rock. If Myrcella was to guess, she imagined that Margaery Tyrell would soon find herself wed to one of her Father's lord bannermen, perhaps with one of the Hightowers or maybe a lord from the Vale, a Royce might make a fine match for his little rose.

"I apologies for being late, my Lords. Court ran longer than I expected it to. What news?"

The Spider, dressed in lilac robes and smelling of flowers as normal, smiled and spoke. "Your Lord Grandfather has taken control of the Frey siege of Riverrun while our dear Ser Jaime has ridden on to Raventree Hall to put down the Blackwoods. Soon enough the Riverlands shall once again belong to the Queen's peace."

"But even with that happy news, more treason yet abounds. We had all hoped that the death of Balon Greyjoy would make the Ironborn see sense and have them bend the knee but alas it seems that quite the opposite has occurred. A new Iron King has been place on the Seastone Chair, Euron Greyjoy, Lord Balon's younger brother and that is the last we have heard of him."

"And in the Vale, we have an issue as well." Her Hand spoke and handed her a scroll. "Lord Royce, Lord Hunter, Lord Redfort, Lord Belmore, Ser Templeton and Lady Waynwood have all named themselves the Lords Declarant, their purpose seems to be in wrestling the stewardship of young Robert Arryn away from Lord Baelish, and to strip him of his title of Lord Protector. They have not yet asked for the crown for aid, but we did place Littlefinger there."

"My brother and grandfather put Littlefinger there, not I." Myrcella muttered as read the letter, all of her Lord Father's councilors she knew the very least about Petyr Baelish. She knew that he was the Lord of the Fingers but that was about it, and for his service Lord of Harrenhal and a marriage to the now late Lysa Arryn had been his prize for leal service.

Lady Lysa had named Littlefinger the Lord Protector of the Vale before she had died, the raven from the Eyrie had said that the Lady of the Vale had been most distressed about something, that she had an argument with a singer that she was very fond off and in a fit of rage, said singer her threw her out of the moon door and was now arrested and rotting in the sky cells.

Something stunk, it was not hard for her to grasp what had truly happened. Littlefinger had murdered the Lady of the Vale and took control of the Kingdom and now the Lords were rebelling against him. "My realm is falling into pieces all around me." She glanced at her husband, how she wished that she had never left done. "We deal with one issue, another hundred sprout up like mushrooms after a hard rain."

The Queen rose. "Lord Rowan, my strong right hand. I leave the charge of the city, and the greeting of Ser Gregor and Ser Wylis." She glanced at Prince Oberyn, then at Lord Wyamn. "In your capable hands. I will need the Queensguard with me, as well as a host of knights to keep me safe as I make my progress."

"A progress?" Lord Rowan asked with a frown. "Your Grace, where do you mean to go?"

"To the Vale, to the Riverlands, to the Reach and the West. If I am to rule, then they must love me and they must fear me and that is what I mean to make them do."

End of Chapter Thirteen

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 **Another chapter done and dusted.**

 **I have to admit, I really love writing Myrcella and I hope you enjoy how I write her as well.**

 **Next chapter, I think we shall have a more Dornish perspective on events though I am uncertain as to whose's perspective it will be told from.**

 **Please leave a review, a follow and a favorite. Constructive Criticism is always welcome.**

 **With a ton of love,**

 **DiscordantSymphony**


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